


Robin Hoodie, Take Two

by storywriter55



Series: Milestones [5]
Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, Helping an old friend, Neal and Sara hit the dance floor, Neal goes undercover, Terrible Twos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 67,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29583624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storywriter55/pseuds/storywriter55
Summary: An old friend from Neal and Sara's past returns and needs their help. The couple is only too happy to lend a hand. Part of the Milestones Series (2.2 years)
Relationships: Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis
Series: Milestones [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/80614
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

The distant yet unmistakeable sound of wailing grew louder and Neal sighed, swearing under his breath as he set down the cutting knife and stepped away from the kitchen island. The intensity of the shrieks escalated and the front door flew open to expose the culprit - although there had been little doubt as to who was responsible for the ruckus that was presently rocking the quiet Prospect Park neighbourhood. 

Sara stormed in, carrying a wailing Hope under her arm and she proceeded to set her down on the floor at her feet. She glared at her husband as the screams persevered, unwavering.

‘She’s all yours!’ Sara declared breathlessly, her face flushed and her eyes wild.

She took in a badly needed lungful of air before continuing, her voice barely controlled. ‘I’m bringing in the groceries from the car and then, I am going back out to meet El for lunch. Just so you know, there _will_ be alcohol involved…’ she added, deadpan.

Neal could tell by her barely restrained tone of voice that Sara was at the end of her tether and was summoning every shred of self-control she could muster not to blow a gasket. He stared back in commiseration, watching her turn on her heels and head back out the front door on her mission to bring in the weekly grocery order.

He took a few tentative steps and crouched down next to his screaming two-year-old daughter, hoping to talk her down - something he suspected from recent experience was a lost cause, considering she was still in the throes of a very intense temper tantrum. Her eyes were red, her face was swollen and tears ran down her face as her arms and legs flailed uncontrollably, all of it accompanied by ear splitting shrieks that showed no signs of letting up. Sadly, the tantrums had become an almost daily occurrence as of late and were in stark contrast to the lovely, cooperative child she’d been just weeks before.

‘Hope…’ Neal attempted, making a concerted effort to stay clear of the kicking legs.

‘Honey, look at Daddy’ he tried again despite the lack of response on her part. The screaming and kicking continued and Neal marvelled at her staying power; it must be exhausting to keep that up for any length of time.

‘NO!’ she screamed breathlessly as the door swung open once again, revealing Sara with an armful of groceries.

Neal got to his feet and met his wife halfway, taking the bags from her outstretched arms and carrying them into the kitchen as she gave him an exasperated look and returned outside for a second load. Now that Hope had been left to her own devices, she seemed to realize that her out of control behaviour wasn't nearly as effective at drawing the attention she sought and Neal noticed her breathing begin to stutter between wails and her screams begin to diminish.

Sara strolled back into the house, taking a wide berth around her simpering daughter and walked back to the kitchen where she deposited the last of the grocery bags on the counter.

‘Neal, this is getting out of hand - ’ she began.

He cut her off by raising his hand and giving her a head nod in Hope’s direction where the screaming had momentarily subsided.

‘We’ll talk about it later’ he whispered cryptically as he brought his hand up to touch her arm. ‘Go! Go to your lunch. I’ll take care of it.’

Sara’s stress level seemed to drop instantly as did the tension in her shoulders and she forced a smile. ‘I’ll be back’ she said with a shrug - not that Neal had ever doubted she would.

He knew from experience that Hope’s tempter tantrums were as exhausting for her as they were for the two of them and that they just needed to wait it out while she got it out of her system. He’d been on the receiving end of a couple of doozies over the past few weeks and he’d watched her cry herself to sleep on a couple of occasions, exhausted from the relentless kicking and screaming.

Neal watched his wife leave and let out a woeful sigh, fighting the urge to pick Hope up off the floor to comfort her - something he knew she was not yet receptive to, if the lingering sobbing was any indication.

The whimpering grew softer and Neal gave her a fleeting glance as he began to put away the groceries, ignoring her as she lay there on the hallway floor. Giving her some time to regain her composure, although seemingly cruel, was the way to go and he continued with the task at hand, giving her surreptitious glances every few seconds as the noise began to subside. He grimaced as he came across the sugary cereal Sara had bought - probably a concession to Hope’s insistent pleas and he stashed the box out of sight, in the back of the cupboard while he took another gander at his daughter.

Hope’s thumb was now firmly buried in her mouth as she calmed herself down and her breathing, although still uneven, had begun to slow to a more normal rhythm, the odd hitch in her breath breaking the uneasy silence in the house.

Neal made his way over to crouch beside her and now that her legs and arms had stopped flailing, he ran his hand soothingly over her hair, away from her tear streaked face.

‘Are you done now, sweet pea?’ he asked calmly.

Hope’s eyes were drooping but she still managed to stare defiantly at her dad, her face swollen, her lips pouting and even though she had finally regained control of herself, she managed to give him a rebellious look as she shouted back insolently.

‘NO!’

WCWCWC

‘Whoa, whoa, slow down girl’ Elizabeth said as Sara ordered her third drink.

It was early afternoon on a Saturday and although they usually kept it to one mimosa or a glass of wine with their salads, Sara had come in all guns blazing, intent on drowning some hereto unidentified problem.

‘What’s _with_ you anyway?’ El asked. ‘Did you and Neal have a fight?’

Sara brought her eyes to meet her best friend’s and let out a long suffering sigh.

‘No, Neal and I did _not_ have a fight’ she answered, combative. ‘It’s Hope. Again. She’s driving us crazy with her temper tantrums.’

‘Hope? My sweet little Hope?’ Elizabeth said, disbelieving.

Her goddaughter could do no wrong in her eyes. She was clever, funny, full of life and as sweet as could be.

‘Now that she’s hit the terrible twos, she’s turned into a terror every time we ask her to do anything at all’ Sara explained as she took a long sip of her martini.

‘I’ve heard about the terrible twos’ El admitted. ‘But I always assumed it was more myth than anything else. Hope is such a sweet little girl.’

‘A sweet little girl?’ Sara repeated sarcastically, so loud that the couple at the table next to them stopped what they were doing and glanced their way. ‘She’s a terror. Her favourite word is ‘no’ and she’s kicks and screams whenever she doesn't get what she wants - including at the grocery store this morning.’

Elizabeth gave her friend a look of empathy. Sara carried on complaining, undeterred.

‘It’s come to the point where I’ll give her anything she wants just to keep her from losing it in public. This morning, she started to whine when we got to the cereal aisle because she wanted me to get some Captain Crunch… but you know how Neal is about nutrition. I finally gave in and grabbed a box… then things started to escalate. She wanted some right there in the store so I gave her a handful.’

‘Are you sure that’s the right way to handle it?’ El asked.

Sara gave her a look of desperation. ‘Probably not…’ she admitted woefully. ‘By the time we made it to the cash and I lifted her out of the cart, she’d gotten herself so worked up that she threw herself on the ground, kicking and screaming while everyone in the store just stared at us. I was mortified.’

Sara downed her drink and signalled for another as El watched in horror. She knew all too well that Hope’s newfound independence was only part of the problem. There were other issues at play, not the least of which was the fallout from Sara’s recent chemo and the uncertainty of follow-up test results every few months. She could certainly cut her best friend some slack under the circumstances.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Elizabeth asked sheepishly.

‘Would you like to adopt her?’ Sara said hastily, immediately regretting what she’d said.

‘I’m sorry, El. It’s just… she was my sweet baby girl just a few weeks ago and now… well, I don’t even know how to deal with her anymore.’

‘She’s a toddler who’s learning to stand up for herself’ Elizabeth replied wisely. ‘Isn’t that what you want for her? You might call it stubbornness now but when she gets older, we’ll be praising her for being perseverant.’

Sara rolled her eyes. She was beyond hearing sense. She grabbed for the fresh martini and downed in it two large gulps.

WCWCWC

Neal checked the butter chicken recipe once again and reached into the spice cupboard for some cardamom. He was looking forward to having young Scott Rivers over for dinner. The two of them had spoken over the phone on a couple of occasions since the young man’s release from prison and Neal was feeling responsible for helping him make a smooth transition back to life on the outside without giving in to the allure of the life of crime which had landed him in the slammer in the first place. Neal had debated inviting Mozzie as well, considering the two of them had hit it off but he’d decided against it. Mozzie had a tendency to draw people into his harebrained schemes, something Scott would do well to avoid for the foreseeable future.

Memories of his first encounter with the young man flooded his mind. He’d liked him immediately upon meeting him, recognizing a kindred spirit in many ways. He and Sara had enjoyed the con they’d pulled on Thomas Carlisle, helping Scott return the diamond bustier he’d stolen from the man’s safe in Manhattan. The kid had guts and Neal chuckled as he recalled Scott’s fondness for Sara and how he'd shamelessly flirted with her right in front of him.

Back then, Neal had admired the young man’s creativity and panache. He was basically harmless, more of a threat to himself than anyone else. But like him, Scott’s lack of impulse control had led him down the path to a life of crime and he’d ended up paying a heavy price for his foolish actions. It had been gratifying to help the young man see the error of his ways and Neal took pride in the role he'd played in bringing Scott in after the whole Carlisle debacle.

But Scott was a free man now and Neal knew firsthand what it was like to return to the outside world with nothing, starting at square one, with a huge black mark against you. If it hadn't been for June’s generosity and Peter’s patience, he had no idea what would have happened to him after his release from prison and he was determined to be there for Scott so he didn't have to face the world alone. 

The kid had a good heart and Neal had been thrilled to hear that he’d gotten a job as a barista at a local Starbucks in order to pay for some courses he was taking at NYU. He was a genius, there was no doubt about that and if he could just learn to channel his many talents into more productive endeavours, he could avoid the pitfalls Neal had been unable to sidestep in his youth.

Although he didn't know all that much about Scott’s family history, Neal suspected that, like him, the kid hadn’t gotten the guidance and support he'd needed in his younger life. In the absence of such support, Neal was more than happy to help the young man in any way he could, including inviting him into their home so that Scott could see that there _was_ life after prison. Hopefully, seeing Neal living a settled life in the burbs with his wife and daughter would help give Scott hope for the future - or so Neal had hoped when he’d extended the invitation.

He was interrupted by the front door opening as familiar voices wafted through the quiet house.

‘Hey you two!’ he called out from the kitchen. ‘Did you have a nice lunch?’

Sara stumbled in rather unsteadily, followed closely by Elizabeth. She smiled crookedly at him and teetered on her four inch heels as Neal frowned.

‘Oh… liquid lunch?’ he asked as he dropped what he was doing and walked towards her.

He gave Elizabeth a questioning look and took his wife by the arm, walking her over to the couch in the family room where she let herself drop unceremoniously.

‘I thought it would be safer if I drove her home’ El explained sheepishly. ‘Seems she’s got a lot on her mind.’

‘Thanks El!’ Sara said as she slipped off her shoes and let them drop noisily on the floor.

Elizabeth looked over at Neal. ‘Sorry… but she was bound and determined to get herself in this state’ she said with a frown.

‘It’s okay. She had a rough morning’ Neal replied as he followed Elizabeth to the front door.

‘Unfortunately, you’re going to have to go back and pick up your car later’ Elizabeth explained as Neal shrugged.

‘That’s okay. We’ll do it in the morning’ he countered. ‘Thanks for getting her home safely.’

Elizabeth gave him one last wave and went on her way, leaving her intoxicated friend in the capable hands of her loving husband.

Neal let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. He made his way back to the family room to find Sara sitting there, looking rather worse for wear.

‘Hey babe, how are you feeling?’ he asked as he took the seat next to her on the couch.

She looked up glassy-eyed, her bottom lip protruding like a little kid who hadn’t gotten her way.

‘Neal, why do we have a daughter who’s a little terror?’

He scoffed and brought his arm to rest around her shoulder, pulling her in. ‘Oh, honey, she’s not a terror. She’s a very intelligent two-year-old who’s trying to assert her independence.’

Sara pulled away and looked into his eyes, giving him her famous ‘ _are you kidding_ ’ glare.

‘Neal, you weren't there. She threw herself on the ground right by the cash register and everyone watched her kicking and screaming. I could barely get her out of there… and she kicked me’ she moaned exaggeratedly as she showed him the beginnings of a small bruise on her arm.

‘Poor baby’ Neal declared wistfully as he brought his lips to kiss the blooming bruise. His lips tickled her in the process, causing her to giggle.

‘Look, if she _didn't_ assert herself, I’d be worried’ he said. ‘She’s smart and we have to find ways to help her gain her independence…’

Sara piped up. ‘Her independence?’

‘…without letting her do things that are dangerous and unsafe’ he added.

She grew quiet and Neal felt her tugging at his shirt. 

‘Is this _really_ what this is all about, Repo?’ he asked tenderly as she continued to pout, not unlike Hope had done earlier. ‘Or does this have something to do with that follow-up appointment we’ve got with Dr. Patel on Wednesday?’

She looked away, letting her head fall against his shoulder. She hated it when he could see right through her. Sometimes, it felt like her almost year-old adventure with cancer would never end.

Neal felt her body start to relax against his and he watched with interest as her hand moved to rest on his leg, caressing it seductively in an obvious attempt at deflection. There were things she didn't like to talk about and he had to choose his moments carefully if he wanted to get her to open up. Her eyes met his and he could see the naughtiness lighting up her face as she pulled him in for a nice lingering kiss.

‘Neaaaal’ she mewled as her hand moved all the way up his thigh to his groin, squeezing gently.

‘Uh huh’ he murmured in the same languid tone of voice. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was getting at.

‘Babe, I would love to… but I’m in the middle of making dinner and Hope’s going to wake up any minute’ he whispered softly, the sweetest, gentlest rebuff ever.

‘Awwww… C’mon… just a quickie’ she moaned breathlessly as he tried his best not to chuckle at the sight of his inebriated wife trying to seduce him on the family room couch in broad daylight.

‘Tipsy Sara’ was a rarity and ‘Saturday afternoon tipsy Sara’ even more so but despite the temptation, Neal brought his lips to her forehead and kissed her chastely. He would have gladly given in to her proposition in pretty well any other circumstance but he held strong, pulling away from her. He stood and reached down to lift the dead weight of her legs onto the sofa. 

She gave him the best come hither look she could muster, including the usually irresistible batting of the eyelashes.

‘You don’t want me?’ she slurred in mock disappointment as Neal helped her settle on the couch.

‘Oh, I want you. I _always_ want you’ he murmured sweetly in an attempt to curb her advances.

He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her lips. ‘But I have a feeling you’re going to fall asleep before the main event. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. Now, get some sleep.’

She felt her eyelids growing heavy and Neal grabbed for the blanket nearby, covering her up and running his hand through her soft new growth of hair.

‘I love you’ he whispered. But she’d already drifted off.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of pots and pans rattling and the babbling of her busy two-year-old roused Sara from her impromptu nap and she forced open an eye to find Hope looming over her, armed with a red marker and a devious smile on her face.

‘Momma, pretty!’ she cried out, eyes sparkling.

‘Hi sweetie’ Sara replied. She frowned and gingerly touched her face, checking for any damage her daughter might have inflicted with the weapon she was holding menacingly in her grasp. In doing so, she took stock of the throbbing headache for which she was the only one to blame.

‘Cott!’ Hope shrieked with glee as she began to jump up and down as if she had springs instead of legs.

Truth was, she had no idea who ‘Scott’ was but her dad had informed her he would be their guest for dinner and she’d been repeating his name over and over again ever since.

‘Hey! You’re awake!’ Neal called out from the kitchen where he’d been busy putting the finishing touches on dinner. He made his way over to the couch, carrying a couple of Advil and a glass of water.

‘Oh, oh!’ he added as he noticed Hope’s handiwork - all over his wife’s face.

‘Honey, we colour on the paper, remember’ he reminded his daughter as he reached for a sheet of construction paper on the nearby shelf and placed in front of her. ‘ _Not_ on Mommy’s face.’

Sara sat up, rolling her eyes; sadly, it wasn't the first time their body parts had been used by Hope for colouring practice.

‘How bad is it?’ she asked, still groggy.

Neal raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. ‘Actually, that’s a great colour on you. You’ve got to admit, the kid’s got taste’ he teased, trying to make light of the fact that their daughter had painted her mom’s lips - and her eyebrows - a bright shade of red.

Sara shot him a look of pure annoyance and grabbed for the glass of water and the pills, downing them without a moment’s hesitation.

He took the dishrag that was slung over his shoulder and dipped the edge in what remained of the glass of water. He proceeded to wipe what he could from the imprint of the fresh marker and held up the dishrag with a glint in his eye.

‘What would you call this? Crimson?’ he asked his wife with a playful grin.

Sara huffed and stood, walking past Hope who was now busily scribbling on the sheet of paper her dad had given her. ‘Thank god for washable markers’ she moaned.

‘You might want to go get ready’ Neal suggested as he picked Hope up in his arms. ‘Scott will be here soon.’

‘Cott!’ Hope repeated with glee as she brought the marker dangerously close to her dad’s face.

‘Oh no, you don’t’ Neal said as he tickled her, forcing the marker to drop from her hand. ‘One smudged up parent at a time is more than enough!’

WCWCWC

Scott Rivers bounced the toddler up and down on his lap as she giggled loudly - that wonderful, irrepressible laughter that always brought a smile to her daddy’s lips. Her bright blue eyes lit up, bolstered by all the undivided attention she was getting from the newcomer and Scott reflected that no paternity test would ever be needed to determine who this cutie patootie’s daddy was. From her intense blue eyes to her dark wavy hair and outgoing personality, she was the spitting image of Neal Caffrey, ex-conman.

‘She’s adorable!’ Scott said as he tickled Hope, bringing on another fit of giggles.

Sara gave her husband a surreptitious glance in response to Scott’s comment. Since his arrival, Hope had reverted to being her old adorable self, compliant, cooperative - the docile child she’d always been.

‘Yes, she is’ Neal nodded in agreement. ‘Aren’t you, sweet pea?’

‘So, you two… parents!’ Scott said, in disbelief.

He’d been shocked to find Neal Caffrey, happily settled in suburban White Plains, a married dad with a penchant for gardening and gourmet cooking - and an SUV sitting in his driveway. The Neal he’d known was the original Mr. Metrosexual, living the high life in Manhattan, surrounded by beautiful and expensive things. This man sat in his unpretentious kitchen, looking relaxed in a pair of black jeans, with his hair slightly mussed and an air of absolute contentment.

‘Yup’ Sara answered with a smile. ‘Who’d a thunk it, huh?’

‘Not me, that’s for sure’ the young man said. ‘So, Neal, tell me. Are you really out of the game? For good?’

Sara’s eyes moved to study Neal’s face. Despite his constant reassurances, hardly a day went by she didn't wonder if Neal had regrets about leaving his old life behind. It was impossible not to notice the glimmer of excitement in his eyes whenever Mozzie came over looking for Neal’s advice on some crazy scheme; she knew he still enjoyed the challenge of a good con.

‘For good’ Neal nodded, without hesitation.

He reached out for Hope’s outstretched arms and settled her on his lap, arms snuggly around her tiny body. ‘Having a baby changes everything’ he added as he brushed his lips to her forehead.

‘I never would have imagined you as a dad’ Scott commented, shaking his head.

‘Well, life kind of threw us a curve ball, didn't it, babe?’ Neal said as he reached for Sara’s hand. ‘But it’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me… to us.’

Scott couldn't help but smile at the term of endearment which had sprung so easily from Neal’s lips. It sounded so… domestic and so unlike the suave conman whom he’d briefly gotten to know a few years back. He remembered Neal’s admonition about how lonely life could be when you were on the run. Apparently, he'd taken his own advice and decided to settle down.

‘And you decided to make it legal?’ Scott asked.

‘Yeah, two years ago… next week’ Sara replied as she realized their anniversary was coming up in a few days.

‘We got married at June’s, in the garden’ Neal said with a wistful smile. ‘Hope was three months old.’

‘Wow, do you have pictures?’ the young man asked.

‘Loads of pictures, if you’re interested’ Neal said.

‘Poppa, cake!’ Hope interrupted as Scott smiled.

‘She’s a real little talker, isn't she?’ he commented.

‘That she is’ Sara said, running her hand through Hope’s unruly head of hair. ‘You want to come with Mommy and help me get the dessert?’ she asked.

‘No. Hope stay Poppa’ the child said, her arms snuggly around Neal’s neck and her face pressed up against his chest.

‘Tell you what’ Neal suggested as he stood with Hope in his arms. ‘Why don't we let Mommy and Scott talk and you and I can get the dessert?’

‘Cott?’ she asked.

‘Yup, Scott’s going to have dessert with us’ Neal reassured her as they walked away.

Sara let out a sigh of relief. It was a crapshoot every single time they asked Hope to do anything. A mere request could push her off the deep end and provoke a tantrum that could last upwards of an hour. Thankfully, so far, she’d refrained from showing off her new talent for kicking and screaming while they had company.

‘So, Neal tells me you just started a new job’ she said.

‘Yeah… well, it’s not much but it’s enough to pay for my room at the boarding house and I’ve started taking a class in computer science at NYU.’

‘That sounds like it’s right up your alley’ Sara commented, recalling his impressive skills at fabricating something out of nothing.

‘Well, I was lucky to get this job at Starbucks and I really don’t want to blow it.’

‘That’s wonderful!’ she enthused as Neal hovered in the background making coffee.

Sara had noticed Scott studying her all through dinner and she tugged self-consciously at her hair, wondering if he was reacting to the shorter hairstyle she’d been forced to adopt. Now that her hair had grown back, she had returned to her previous copper colour and thankfully, the tight curls had relaxed somewhat and she was able to style it more to her taste. Neal insisted he loved it short but she knew he missed the longer, soft curls.

‘I’m really digging the new do, by the way’ Scott finally said. ‘It suits you.’

‘Are you flirting with my wife again’ Neal teased as he and Hope reappeared at the table with a homemade strawberry shortcake and a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

‘Hey, that’s what happens when you leave a beautiful woman alone’ Scott replied, eliciting a chuckle from Neal.

‘Well, _this_ beautiful woman is spoken for’ he said as he brought his lips down to kiss the top of Sara’s head.

Sara rolled her eyes. ’You guys better cut it out or I’ll start to believe all this crap you’re spouting.’

‘Crap!’ Hope shouted out proudly as she clapped her hands.

‘O-kay’ Neal said, eyebrows raised. ‘Well, we’ve just added a new word to our vocabulary!’

Scott glanced at the masterpiece on the table. ‘You’re not going to tell me you made this cake from scratch, are you?’

‘Picked the strawberries in the backyard this morning, didn’t we, sweet pea?’ Neal said, proudly.

Scott rolled his eyes and scoffed. The man sitting in front of him might look like Neal Caffrey but he sure as hell wasn’t the same man he'd met before he’d gone to jail. Maybe there was hope for him, after all.

WCWCWC

By the time dinner wrapped up, Hope had begun to yawn and rub her eyes and after negotiating to have Scott come up and tuck her in, she agreed to go up and have her bath - without so much as a word of complaint.

‘Why don’t you guys catch up’ Sara said as she prepared to whisk Hope away. ‘I’ll let you know when Hope is ready for bed.’

Scott studied Neal’s face as the older man’s gaze remained on Sara, watching her walk away with a lovesick grin on his lips. It was obvious Neal was crazy about his wife and the young man wondered how he had come to leave a life of crime and settle down in suburbia just a few short years after living the life of a carefree conman.

‘She’s pretty amazing, huh?’ he commented once Sara had disappeared from sight.

‘More than I ever knew’ Neal admitted. ‘Our marriage isn't what I’d call traditional in a lot of ways but now that we have Hope…well, I can’t imagine any other life.’

Scott glanced around the room. From his vantage point at the kitchen table, he could see toys littering the family room and the large backyard complete with a lush garden and a large sandbox. The idyllic setting was so foreign to him and like Neal before him, he had trouble imagining that he might want this for himself someday.

‘So, how did a guy like you give up the life and end up here?’ Scott asked.

‘It was all very organic, actually. Well, except for moving out here to White Plains. That was… well, it was a difficult decision for both of us and we thought long and hard about it before making the move. We lived at June’s until Hope was almost a year old and we both love big city life but… well, we just wanted Hope to have room to run and play. Plus, by then, we were living on one income and getting a bigger place in Manhattan just wasn't feasible.’

Scott listened, nodding. ‘But getting married… that must have been a really big deal.’

Neal shrugged. ‘Deciding to have Hope, that was a much bigger decision’ he admitted. ‘It was…well it wasn't planned but once we both committed to it, well, the rest just sort of fell into place. By the time Hope was born, I’d realized I didn't want to live my life without either one of them.’

‘Is Sara all right? She looks… I don't know, tired.’

Neal looked down at his cup of coffee and sighed. They were coming out of the year from hell and apparently, it was still obvious - even to strangers.

‘Right around this time last year, we found out Sara had cancer. She had surgery and chemotherapy and… well, she’s still getting back on her feet.’

‘And that would explain the shorter hair’ Scott said as a little light went on. ‘Is she going to be all right?’

‘Chances are… good’ Neal said tentatively as he thought about the ambiguity of Sara’s latest test results. ‘We try to stay upbeat… you know, for Hope’s sake. But I know it’s on Sara’s mind all the time and there’s nothing I can do but… just be there for her.’

Neal shook off the melancholy and pasted a smile on his face. ‘So, what about you? How are you enjoying that class you’re taking?’

Scott smiled and reached for his cup of coffee. ‘It’s good… but…’

Whatever was on the young man’s mind, Neal was determined to get to the bottom of it and he waited for a minute to let Scott finish his thought.

‘Neal, how were you able to finally leave the life behind?’ he asked. ‘It’s…’

‘Exciting?’ Neal asked as Scott shrugged.

‘Well, certainly more exciting than brewing lattes and macchiatos and having to turn on the charm even when you don't feel like it.’

Neal scoffed. ‘You’re right. I won't pretend it’s always easy. I’m home with Hope most days when I’m not working cases with Peter and I’ll be the first to admit that picking strawberries in the backyard and toilet training a toddler isn't exactly glamorous but… it’s the bigger picture, you know. I mean, I don't want to be on the run for the rest of my life, looking over my shoulder to see if someone the likes of Peter Burke is about to catch up with me. Instead, I get to share my life with the woman I love and I get that amazing little girl looking at me every day like I can do no wrong.’

He looked at Scott whose mind was churning. ‘Look, I meant what I said that day. When you’re on the run like that, you can never slow down to share your life with anyone and I decided that’s not what I wanted - not for the rest of my life.’

Scott looked skeptical as Neal continued. ‘I was lucky. I met Peter Burke and he showed me there was another way and then, life happened and I just… well, I decided to take a leap of faith.’

‘But don’t you miss it?’ Scott asked, leaning in.

‘Of course I miss it’ Neal admitted without hesitation. He thought back to the hours following Hope’s birth and how he’d totally lost it, terrified he was somehow going to be unable to resist temptation and end up ruining his newborn daughter’s life.

‘Mozzie's still around and he’ll come over with some crazy scheme and part of me wishes I could just jump in, feet first. But what would that get me? Another stint in jail, away from Hope and Sara?’

Scott nodded.

‘Look, think about it. A wise friend once told me that life is all about giving up something you want for something you want more. For a while, I’d conned myself into believing that I could have it all but you can’t, Scott. It’s just a con, a mirage. At some point, you have to make a choice and live with the consequences.’

Neal watched as Scott listened. He feared he might be coming across a little too preachy and he wondered when he’d turned into Peter Burke, spouting the virtues of living life on the right side of the law.

‘So, Mozzie’s still around?’ Scott asked.

‘Still running scams and keeping his ear to the ground looking for the next big score’ Neal said with a wry laugh.

‘I’d love to see him again’ Scott admitted.

‘That can be arranged. We’ll have you over again. Better yet, why don’t I pop in and have coffee and I can watch you put your amazing barista skills to work?’

‘Yeah, I’d like that’ Scott said. Neal sensed some hesitation in the young man’s voice and he waited.

‘Neal’ he finally said. ‘I think something’s up with Michael, my manager at work.’

‘Why?’ Neal asked.

‘I think he’s dealing in something… I don’t know what. I see some shady characters coming in and out all the time. I just… I don't want to get mixed up in anything.’

‘Do you want me to talk to Peter about it?’ Neal asked.

‘No. No. I don't want to jeopardize my job.’

Neal shrugged. ’Well, why don't I come by and check things out. See if we can figure out what’s going on.’

‘I don’t want to get you involved…’ Scott said.

‘Look, if Sara and I can sneak you into a high-rise building, help you break into a uncrackable safe and return millions of dollars worth of diamonds, I think I can drop by and let you make me a cappuccino’ Neal said with a laugh.

‘Guys!’ they heard from upstairs. ‘Hope’s ready to be tucked in.’

Scott gave Neal a wag of his eyebrows as he stood. ‘That’s my cue.’

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Caffreys worked in silence, tidying up the kitchen following their dinner with Scott Rivers. Neal kept playing the conversation he’d had with the young man over in his mind, particularly the concerns Scott had shared about the goings on at his place of employment. He’d told Neal he’d seen some suspicious looking characters coming and going in the month since he’d been hired and he’d overheard a worrisome conversation about a possible heist.

Scott had finished purging his sentence a mere six months earlier and the last thing he wanted was to be associated - intentionally or otherwise - with any kind of illegal activity. And yet, he didn't want to have to quit his job; getting hired had been hard enough in the first place. 

Neal hoped his words of wisdom about life on the straight and narrow had had a positive impact on Scott and that he'd succeeded in inspiring his young protégé. It hadn’t been easy to make Scott see reason the first time around and Neal knew better than anyone how strong the attraction could be to a life of crime, the excitement of living on the edge, the thrill of planning and executing a con to say nothing of the obvious benefits of ‘the good life’. But Neal had found in time that there was something even better than the rush of the con and he hoped that seeing him settled and happy would help Scott stay out of jail. 

‘You’re being awfully quiet’ came Sara’s voice as she handed him a plate to put in the dishwasher.

‘Just… thinking about Scott’ he murmured absentmindedly.

‘What about him?’

Neal turned to face his wife and waited until he had her full attention before continuing. ‘He thinks there’s something shady going on at the coffee shop where he works and he’s afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.’

‘What kind of _shady_?’ she asked, eyes narrowing.

‘He says there have been some strange visitors and he overheard his manager talking to someone about a heist’ Neal explained.

‘A heist?’

Neal couldn't deny he was intrigued by the whole thing and Sara could see _that_ look in his eyes - the one he always got whenever he was working a nice, juicy case with Peter.

‘I know that look, Caffrey’ she said, preemptively. ‘Stay out of it.’

Neal shrugged, choosing to ignore her comment. ‘I was thinking maybe I’d drop by and see what I could find out’ he said, fully expecting some sort of push back from his wife.

He wasn't disappointed. ‘Honey, do you _really_ think that’s a good idea?’

‘I didn’t say I’d go in with guns blazing… or flashing my sheriff’s badge’ he added playfully. ‘I’ll just go in for a nice cappuccino and see if I pick up on anything suspicious.’

‘Still… you don't want to be caught in the middle if there _is_ any funny business going on’ she reminded him. ‘Why don’t you at least run it by Peter when we go over there for dinner tomorrow night? See what _he_ thinks.’

Neal thought for a moment; he knew Peter could be discreet if he asked him to be. ‘I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get his take on it…’

Sara smiled, somewhat vindicated and decided to change the subject.

‘Hope was a perfect little angel all through dinner tonight’ she commented as Neal nodded.

‘You know babe, she’s still our beautiful little girl… she’s just headstrong’ he said, stopping short of reminding her that Hope came by her stubbornness honestly; after all, she _was_ half Ellis. 

Sara scoffed. ‘She sure didn't look like our beautiful little girl this morning. She literally drove me to drink!’

Neal grinned and laced his arms around his wife’s waist, moving in for a cuddle. ‘Well, I did some research while the two of you were napping this afternoon.’ 

He pointed to a stack of papers nearby on the kitchen counter. ‘I printed out some stuff for you to read. The good news is her behaviour is perfectly normal for her age. She’s just trying to assert herself and become her own little person. It’s up to us to find ways to keep her safe while she flexes her muscles.’

‘Great!’ Sara said sarcastically as she reached around Neal to start the dishwasher.

He took advantage of the closer proximity to move his lips to her neck, hands still firmly on her hips.

‘There are some tricks on the websites we can try’ he murmured, suddenly distracted by her presence.

‘Like what?’ Sara asked, pulling back to maintain eye contact.

Neal let out a soft moan and, undeterred, he returned his mouth to the soft crook of her neck.

‘Like distraction, for one thing’ he whispered, trying his best to get his wife in the zone.

She giggled. ‘Do people really fall for that, Caffrey?’ she asked playfully.

‘Some do…’ he murmured as Sara gave him a good natured shove. ‘… but it works best with two year olds’ he conceded.

Sara took a step back intent on continuing the discussion. She needed advice in the worst possible way before she turned into a raging alcoholic.

‘What else do the websites say?’ she asked earnestly, her mind still focussed on Hope.

Neal bridged the gap between them and returned his hands to her hips. ‘Like… not letting things escalate and giving her more choices.’

‘ _More_ choices, don't you think that’ll just make thing worse?’

‘No, I mean a choice between two things that are acceptable to us… so that we can get her to do what we need her to do without her losing it’ he said, eyes focussed on her luscious mouth.

‘Huh?’ Sara said with a frown, not quite getting the gist of it.

‘Like for example… instead of nagging her to get dressed you could ask her ‘ _Do you want to wear the blue sweater or the red sweater?_ ’ or ‘ _What do you want to put on fist? Your left sock or your right one?_ ’ That way, she still puts on the damn socks but she feels like she has some control over the situation… and it keeps us sane.’

‘Oh’ Sara said with a nod. ‘I never thought of that.’

Neal smiled naughtily, his mind moving away from dealing with their daughter’s behavioural issues and back to that special spot behind his wife’s ear he was becoming increasingly eager to explore.

‘You know, that technique works in _all kinds_ of situations’ he whispered lewdly as he began to nibble on her ear.

‘Oh, yeah. Like what?’ Sara asked innocently.

He let out an uneven breath before murmuring, his voice growing rough. ‘Like… do you want to come upstairs with me and let me ravish you in our bed or would you rather I take you right here on the kitchen table?’

Sara giggled. ‘Oh, I get it now’ she said as her lips sought his in a deep, languid kiss.

‘Well?’ Neal moaned in anticipation as his lips continued to roam. ‘What’s your preference, Mrs. Caffrey?’

Sara gave him a naughty smile as her eyes met his. ‘Can’t I have both?’

WCWCWC

The sound of the front door opening at 7:30 on a Sunday morning might have been cause for alarm in most households. But in the Caffrey home, it usually heralded the arrival of Theodore Winters who had the tendency of showing up uninvited and unannounced in the hopes of chowing down on the brunch Neal was in the habit of preparing most weekends.

Neal turned in bed and noting Sara was still sound asleep, he slipped out from under the blankets and grabbed for a t-shirt before stepping into the hallway to find Hope bolting out of her room, no doubt in reaction to the sounds coming from downstairs.

‘Hey, sweet pea’ he whispered. ‘Shhh. ‘Mommy’s asleep.’

‘Uccle Mossie?’ Hope squealed, clapping her hands in glee.

Neal nodded and picked her up in his arms, heading downstairs to confront the intruder who stood by the front door, lock pick set still in his hands, punching in the security code on the keypad by the door.

The soft beep of success was heard and Neal gave his buddy a look of quiet despair. ’Moz! How did you get the code this time? I just changed it last week.’

‘Then stop using important dates like birthdays and your wedding anniversary’ Mozzie complained as he followed Neal into the kitchen. ‘You’re becoming so damn… predictable!’

‘Sara doesn't remember it otherwise…’ Neal began to explain, visibly annoyed. ‘…anyway, why am I even explaining it to you…’

‘Neal, why don’t you just give me a key and the code and have it done with? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?’ Mozzie complained although, truth be told, having to break in helped keep his skills honed and sharp.

‘No! I’m not giving you a key, Moz’ Neal answered, miffed. ‘It’s a matter of principle. I’m still holding out hope that you’ll learn to call before coming over and that you’ll knock on the door like any other normal human being.’

He walked over to grab a puzzle from the toy shelf in the family room and he set Hope down in her booster seat at the kitchen table, hoping to keep her busy while he got food on the table.

Mozzie ignored Neal’s griping and took a seat next to his niece, waiting to be fed while Neal pulled out some eggs and milk from the refrigerator and got to work.

‘I guess I should be grateful you don't come upstairs and stroll right into our bedroom - like you used to’ he grumbled as he recalled all those times at June’s when Mozzie had interrupted their lovemaking.

He watched Mozzie’s eyebrows shoot up - as if the idea of walking in on him and Sara in bed had never occurred to him.

‘Don’t…’ Neal warned as he saw the look on Mozzie’s face. ‘Don’t even think about it!’

‘Poppa, eggs!’ Hope called out as Mozzie put two pieces of the puzzle together and placed them on the table.

‘No!’ Hope shouted at her uncle. ‘Hope do it!’

Mozzie pulled back, surprised by her reaction. ‘What’s the matter, munchkin? Don't you want Uncle Mozzie to help you?’

Neal gave his buddy a look of admonition which the older man chose to ignore, deciding instead to hand Hope a new piece of puzzle.

‘NO!’ Hope screamed louder than before as she grabbed the puzzle piece from his hand and threw it violently on the floor.

‘Moz, I think you better let it be’ Neal warned, sensing the tension rising. ‘She’s… going through a phase.’

Mozzie frowned and walked over to the fridge, boldly opening it and peeking inside.

‘Yum, butter chicken!’ he exclaimed as Neal walked over and slapped his hand away.

‘Seriously Moz? Do I have to put a lock on the fridge, too?’ he asked, returning to the eggs and bacon frying up on the stovetop.

Mozzie continued, undeterred, grabbing the leftovers and a fork from the utensil drawer nearby.

‘Delicious’ he mumbled, his mouth full. ‘When did you guys have this?’

Neal rolled his eyes; Moz was the uninvited guest who never left.

‘Last night’ he answered, only mildly annoyed. ‘We had Scott Rivers over for dinner.’

‘Scott!’ Mozzie exclaimed. ‘How’s the kid doing?’

Neal’s mind returned to his conversation from the previous night. He was still wondering how he could help the young man without calling any unwanted attention to him.

‘Moz, have you heard about any jobs going down?’ he asked.

‘Like what?’

‘That’s just it. I don’t know. Scott is working as a barista at a Starbucks in Brooklyn and he thinks his boss might be mixed up in something.’

‘Well, I heard that Rusty was looking to fence some Mauritius stamps and Jimmy the Greek’s been spouting off all week about some big job he’s going to help pull but you know Jimmy… he’s such a blowhard… But I could ask around if you want.’

‘I thought Jimmy the Greek was your sworn enemy’ Neal reminded his buddy as he hovered over the stove.

‘Yeah, he is… but… he doesn't know that…’ Mozzie responded as he took another large bite of the cold leftovers.

Neal just shook his head; trying to keep track of Mozzie’s grudge list was more than he could handle.

‘Well, keep your ears open, will you? And let me know if you hear anything.’

‘Sure!’ Mozzie said, taking one last bite of chicken and closing the container’s lid. ‘Is it okay if I bring this home?’

WCWCWC

Sunday night dinner at Peter and El’s was a long standing tradition - although since Hope’s arrival in their lives, the Caffreys had been known to skip a weekend every now and again in order to play hosts to the Burkes. Generally speaking, Hope loved going over to her godparents’ house where she could bask in the adoration of both Peter and El - especially her godfather with whom she also spent most Saturday afternoons doing whatever her little heart desired. 

Sara and Neal spent part of Sunday afternoon developing a plan of action with a view to curtail their daughter’s recent outbursts. They were well aware that consistency was the most important element of any new strategy. If they were going to make any headway, they would have to agree on how to react and make sure that everyone who dealt with their daughter on a regular basis was also on board.

Which was definitely going to be a problem where Peter Burke was concerned.

Peter had a monumental blind spot when it came to his beloved goddaughter. In his eyes, she could do no wrong and he catered to her every whim, plying her with forbidden foods and letting her run him ragged, no matter how unreasonable her demands were. 

On the drive over to Brooklyn, Sara managed to sweet talk her husband into enlisting his best friend’s help in the rehabilitation of their unruly toddler - all in exchange for a couple of extra back rubs and a pass on Hope’s bedtime routine for the coming week. Neal had driven a hard bargain and he figured he’d gotten the better part of that deal. After all, Peter Burke was nothing if not level-headed and if Neal could summon his silver tongue into action, he was reasonably sure he’d be able to appeal to the man’s common sense and get him onside.

So, once the women had settled in the Burke kitchen to chat, the men made their way out to the backyard, beer in hand, and settled in to watch Hope and Satchmo playing alongside each other in the sandbox Peter had built especially for her.

Neal didn't waste any time guiding the conversation towards Hope - after all, it _was_ Peter’s favourite subject. 

‘Peter’ he began, taking a deep breath. ‘Sara and I need your help with Hope.’

‘Sure buddy. What’s up?’ Peter asked as his eyes returned to Hope who was patting down a pail full of sand and giggling happily.

He chuckled at the sight of his goddaughter, the apple of his eye.

‘Isn’t she cute?’ he asked rhetorically as Neal rolled his eyes.

It seemed a very inauspicious beginning to their discussion but Neal charged ahead.

‘That’s just it, Peter. Hope’s a really smart kid and lately she’s started to act out, throwing tempter tantrums and being contrary whenever we ask her to do anything.’

Peter half listened, his eyes still riveted on the child, looking so sweet and innocent.

‘Peter!’ Neal said louder, hoping to get his attention. ‘I’m talking to you.’

‘Did I tell you what she did the other day?’ Peter said with a chuckle, totally ignoring Neal. ‘She got some water from the hose and dumped it in the sandbox and watched while Satchmo rolled around in it’ Peter said with a giggle.

Neal frowned. ‘And in what universe is that appropriate behaviour?’ he asked, visibly annoyed.

‘It was cute…’ Peter argued, eyes still glued on the child. ‘I just hosed them both down, no big deal.’

‘Well, it kind of is, Peter. You have Hope over here for a few hours every Saturday and you let her do whatever the hell she wants. Then, Sara and I have to put up with her antics for the rest of the week. We need you to try to… rein her in a little. Don’t let her get away with so much.’

Peter looked at his best friend with a look of horror on his face.

‘I can’t _discipline_ her!’ he said loudly as if Neal had just suggested he commit a capital crime. ‘She’s… she’s just a baby.’

‘No, she’s not, Peter!’ Neal argued. ‘She’s an extremely intelligent two-year-old and the truth is she plays you like a Stradivarius.’

As if on cue, Hope came running over with a pail full of sand, her gait unsteady as Satchmo followed close on her heels.

‘Hey pumpkin!’ Peter called out to her, arms open. ‘What have you got there?’

‘Cake’ she shouted with glee just before losing her footing, the pail slipping from her hands. The sand fell on Peter lap and Neal was instantly on his feet, trying to mitigate the damage - although Peter seemed totally unperturbed by the incident.

‘Here, honey let’s clean that up’ Neal said as he reached out for his daughter’s hand. Hope stuck out her bottom lip in a show of defiance as her smile morphed into a pout and she crossed her arms across her chest - a move she’d seen her mom make many, many times before.

‘NO!’ she shouted loudly.

‘Come on, sweet pea. Daddy will help you’ Neal insisted.

‘It’s fine…’ Peter muttered as he smiled at Hope.

‘No, Peter it’s not. She needs to clean up her mess.’

‘NO!’ came Hope’s voice, shrill, as she began to rev up for what looked like a mammoth tantrum.

She kicked the bucket which lay at her feet, sending it flying within inches of the dog who sat there wondering what all the commotion was about.

‘Hope!’ Neal said sternly. ‘That’s enough!’

‘NO, _not ’_ nough!’ she shouted back, the sound of her voice carrying all the way into the house and bringing both Sara and Elizabeth to the back door to see what all the fuss was about.

Before Neal knew what happened, Hope had thrown herself on the ground and was about to embark on one of her now infamous tantrums when she caught sight of Peter out of the corner of her eye, reaching out for her, empathy in his eyes. She whimpered, playing up her helplessness and she threw herself in his open arms as he brought her to rest on his chest.

‘There, there. It’s okay, sweetheart’ Peter said, running his hand up and down her back as she began to curl up against him.

Neal looked on in sheer desperation and exchanged a fleeting look with his wife who, like him, observed the scene with disappointment. His eyes returned to Peter who shot him a look of reprimand for what he perceived as a lack of sensitivity on Neal’s part.

But worse of all was the look of pure satisfaction on Hope’s face as she took refuge in the comfort of her godfather’s arms, playing it up for all it was worth.

Goodbye back rubs.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

The vibration of the phone on his desk startled Scott Rivers, waking him from the light slumber he'd managed to slip into. The professor gave him a look of reprimand and Scott responded with an embarrassed smile as he tucked the phone away in his jeans pocket and returned his attention to what was happening in the classroom around him. Not that what was being discussed wasn't interesting… but between working past midnight on a class assignment, having one of his housemates come home belligerently drunk at three in the morning and having to be at work, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at five that morning, he was dead on his feet.

He forced his eyes open and glanced around the lecture hall, noticing that cute redhead looking at him out of the corner of her eye. All he knew was that her first name was Moira and that she hung around with the overly chatty brunette who was presently asking for clarification on some of the finer points of an image processing technique they'd been discussing before he’d nodded off. He gave the redhead a nod and a shy smile which she returned, to his delight.

Burning the candle at both ends just so he could live a dismal life in a boarding house with a bunch of lowlifes was not the life the young man had aspired to. As a kid, he’d lived in the servants’ quarters of an opulent mansion owned by the Hartford family of Newport, Rhode Island. His mom had been employed there, managing the estate, from the time he was three years old until she’d passed away mere months before his arrest.

His years living in the small cottage adjacent to the Hartford Mansion had been akin to working in a candy store but not being allowed to partake of any of the goodies. Although the Hartfords had always been kind to his mom, it had been clear to the young boy from the very start that there was a line that could never crossed. Susan Rivers was the ‘help’ and she was expected to behave with restraint and decorum, catering to wealthy family members as they frolicked on the grounds, partying and taking full advantage of the privilege they’d been born into. Scott had attended a public school nearby and even though the mansion was often unoccupied for days on end, it was forbidden to wander into the home or the grounds, a rule he couldn't help but break, every chance he got - to his mother’s chagrin.

Scott had never accepted that some people lived a life of privilege, surrounded by excessive - if not obscene - wealth while others, like he and his mom struggled to make ends meet. He’d resented it his whole life and once his mom was no longer around to provide the loving support and understanding he needed, he had wasted no time retaliating for the inequities he’d witnessed throughout his childhood. Her death had hit the young man hard and had thrown him into a tailspin and although he’d always been on the adventurous side, it wasn't until after she’d passed away that he’d begun to act out - like an impulsive two-year-old.

The first place he’d hit on his criminal spree was the Hartford Mansion, walking away with an outrageously expensive brooch for which the snooty matriarch had particular affection. He had enjoyed the thrill of it all and he'd quickly followed it up with a couple more thefts from neighbouring homes he was familiar with, considering his knowledge of the area. 

‘Papers are due by 4:00 today and make sure to read chapters 6 and 7 before the next class’ the professor reminded the group as he gathered up his things and prepared to leave.

Scott’s eyes had just returned to his phone - a text from Neal - when he was distracted by the pretty girl he’d been eyeing, standing right in front of him.

‘Almost got caught napping, huh?’ she said with a gleam in her eye.

Scott smiled. ‘I guess I’ll have to start wearing my sunglasses to class’ he joked.

‘I’m Moira, by the way’ she said with a warm smile.

‘Scott’ he replied with a matching grin.

‘Some of us are getting together for a bite to eat’ she continued. ‘Would you like to come along?’

Scott sighed - he would love nothing more. ‘Unfortunately, I need to be back at work in half an hour’ he said with regret. ‘Maybe next time…’

‘Sure. Next time’ she replied as she turned away.

Scott returned to his phone, disappointed about missing out on getting to know the pretty young woman. He was becoming increasingly frustrated about the many sacrifices he was having to make - all so he could live in a shit hole and keep serving others, just like his mom had done her whole life.

His scowl turned to a smile as he read Neal’s text, asking if he could pop over to the coffee shop with Hope for a little visit. At least, something good would come of his day.

WCWCWC

Neal climbed up the stairs to check on his daughter. Generally speaking, he tried to keep her daytime nap to no more than two hours; any less and she became cranky by dinner time, any more and she wouldn’t fall asleep until past ten o’clock at night. He spied her on the bed, thumb firmly in her mouth and he sat next to her, gently pulling her hand away and grinning at the small popping sound that followed. She’d been a thumb sucker since birth and although he and Sara worked at coaxing her to keep her thumb out of her mouth, she struggled with it, especially at bedtime. Neal knew, better than anyone, what it was like to be left to fend for yourself and find comfort where you could and he was of the mind that when the time came, she would give up the nasty habit all be herself. 

He ran his hand through her thick, dark hair, admiring how peaceful she looked as she slept. She was an amazing little person, so strong willed yet surprisingly easygoing - when she wasn't throwing one of her trademark tantrums. Contrary to Sara, Neal wasn't overly worried about her recent bouts of acting out. Sure, they were hard to manage - especially in public. But they showed a strength of character that would serve her well in life and as long as she stayed safe and developed some healthy respect for limits, he knew she would be just fine.

They had gone a whole twenty-four hours without a tantrum and Neal hoped his luck would hold out, considering his planned visit to see Scott out in Brooklyn. Tantrums in the privacy of your home was one thing but it was always got trickier when it happened out in public.

Hope let out a soft sigh, her heart shaped mouth opening slightly as she moaned in response to his gentle touch.

‘Hey, sweet pea’ he murmured as her eyes fluttered open.

Until recently, Neal’s life had been all about the thrill of the con and yet, now, he dared not imagine his life without this beautiful little girl. Looking at life through her eyes had helped him reconnect with the little boy inside him - the kid who got excited at the sound of his dad’s voice at the end of the day or the sweet voice of his mom as she sang him a lullaby.

Granted, he had to dig pretty deep to find those memories; his dad had left when he was only three years old and his mom had almost immediately sunk into depression, becoming less and less attentive to her son’s needs. The recollections were faint and elusive but deep in his gut, Neal remembered a time when feeling loved and nurtured had been enough… long before, it had begun to take increasingly more excitement and danger to elicit any feelings at all. Luckily, he had been spared an empty life of crime - in large part due to his chance encounter with Peter Burke and later on, the beautiful redheaded insurance investigator. And now, he needed to look no further than the angelic face before him to find absolute joy and fulfilment in is life.

‘Poppa…’ Hope’s voice said, rough.

‘Did you have a good nap, sweetie?’ he asked as she climbed onto his lap and lay her head on his chest, looking for a cuddle.

She cooed as he held her close, feeling her heart beating softly against his, her warm breath on his arm. He kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back; she was love and warmth and tenderness all wrapped up into a tiny little package and he felt himself smile.

‘I thought we could go visit Scott’ he whispered. ‘Would you like that?’

‘Cott?’ she repeated as her head popped up and her eyes met his.

Her unruly hair hung in her droopy eyes but a smile appeared on her face nonetheless.

‘You really like Scott, don't you?’ he asked as she nodded.

‘Cott, book’ she said, recalling his earlier visit.

‘That’s right, Scott read you a bedtime story the other night, didn't he?’

‘Moon’ she said brightly.

‘You know Scott works where they make hot chocolate’ Neal explained patiently. ‘There are lots of grownups there. Do you think you can be a big girl and listen to what Daddy asks you to do?’

She nodded and climbed off his lap, obviously ready to hit the road.

‘Hope listen’ she nodded as she began to dance around.

‘Look at Daddy’ Neal said, taking her hand in order to get her attention. ‘That means no shouting, no screaming, no crying, right?’ Neal reminded her.

‘Hope no cry’ she agreed.

‘All right then, come sit here on the bed and I’ll do your hair and then, we can go’ Neal said, a silent prayer on his lips.

WCWCWC

Having Neal Caffrey as your dad meant lots of fun and adventure. Nary a day went by when father and daughter didn't go out for a short outing - even during the long, cold New York winter months. It could be as innocuous as running an errand, visiting a local museum, taking in story time at the library or going to the park. Whatever it was, Neal had a way of making everything feel like a new adventure.

Hope sat in her car seat, watching the world go by and singing softly to her stuffed pink elephant as her dad took the road to Brooklyn. He was intrigued by what Scott had confided the previous weekend and he’d shared the information with Peter who’d advised him to go easy and to let him know if he needed any help. Scott was already on the edge, making barely enough money to cover his $400 rent for a minuscule room near the university. He couldn't afford to lose his job over this. And yet, if there _was_ something illegal percolating in the backrooms of the coffee shop, Neal just couldn't stifle his curiosity.

‘Uccle Peter?’ Hope asked from the back seat as she recognized the Whitestone Bridge heading into Brooklyn.

‘Not today, baby. Remember, we’re going to visit Scott’ Neal said, impressed by her sharp sense of direction and ability to recognize landmarks - so unlike her mom in that way.

Traffic wasn't too bad for a Tuesday afternoon and he managed to find a parking spot within a block of the Starbucks. He spotted Scott as they passed the storefront window, chatting with a customer as the man reached for the cup Scott handed him.

The young man’s face lit up when he spotted Neal and he signalled that he would be with him in a minute. The place was busy as it was at all times of the day and night with students sitting with their laptops open before them, retirees chatting over empty cups of coffee and some well dressed men and women, deep in discussion as business was discussed and deals were made.

‘Do you want some hot chocolate, sweet pea?’ Neal asked his daughter who was wriggling to get out of his arms so she could go see Scott.

‘Cott’ she countered.

‘We’ll see Scott in a minute. He’s working.’

‘COTT’ she said, louder as she continued to squirm.

For a moment, Neal thought she was about to lose it but suddenly, Scott was there, arms reaching out for the toddler.

‘Hi Hope!’ he said, taking her in his arms and tickling her belly. ‘You look so pretty today.’

Hope glowed in response and Neal grinned at the obvious flattery - the con man’s best tool - which seemed to be having the desired effect on his daughter. She settled in the young man’s arms and he carried her over to a nearby table by the window. Within moments, Neal had joined them with their beverages, Hope happily settled on Scott’s lap.

‘Thanks’ Neal said. ‘I thought things might escalate there for a minute.’

He watched as Hope took a small sip from the cup Scott held up for her. ‘She’s… going through a phase…’ Neal murmured as Scott nodded in understanding. He didn't know much about kids but this one was a cutie pie and he was happy to keep her occupied if it meant helping Neal out.

‘Is he here?’ Neal whispered as he glanced around the busy room.

‘He’s in his office with some guy who came in about five minutes ago’ Scott said, looking nervously towards the back of the store.

‘Have you ever seen this guy in here before?’

‘No, I don't think so but when he got here, Michael just grabbed him by the arm and took him back there. He seemed upset that the guy had shown up.’

‘Chock… late!’ Hope shouted with glee as Neal winked at her, instantly returning his gaze to Scott.

‘So you don't think he was expecting him?’

‘I got the feeling he was pissed off at the guy for showing up unannounced’ Scott answered, eyes wandering around the room.

His face became animated. ‘There he is’ he mumbled under his breath as an older looking, hard on his luck man came out of the back and hurried towards the front door.

Neal didn't dare turn around for fear of being too conspicuous and he waited for the distinctive sound of the door closing behind him. As luck would have it, the man headed west up the sidewalk, walking right past the window and under Neal’s nose. His face was tense, his gait rapid and within seconds he’d disappeared from sight.

Neal’s eyes widened. There was no doubt about it - it was Jimmy Taylor aka Jimmy the Greek.

WCWCWC

The double finger point was used in very limited circumstances, whenever the urgency of the situation dictated its use. Otherwise, a single finger was usually sufficient.Peter stood on the floor of the bull pen, eyes on his boss as the older man stood at the balustrade staring down at Peter with two fingers in the air.

Peter ran up the steps two by two and followed his boss into the conference room, closing the door behind him.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘We’ve got some new intel…’ the older man began, his voice low. ‘About a planned break-in at the Nicole Stinson Gallery.’

Peter frowned and shook his head. ’I’ve never even heard of it’ he admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

‘Neither had I’ Hughes admitted. ‘It’s not that well known and it’s one of dozens in the Chelsea District.’

Peter nodded. ‘Normally, it would be a showcase for artists from the village but they’ve been chosen to host a huge exhibit of modern art starting next week’ Hughes explained.

Peter listened attentively; it was his job to know this stuff. ‘Who called it in?’

‘Anonymous tip but it’s probably one of our CIs who’s too nervous to give us anything more than the location of the heist’ Hughes answered.

‘You think it’s a credible source?’ Peter asked.

‘It’s worth looking into. They’ve got some pretty valuable stuff coming in from all over Europe and the States.’

‘Any idea who’s hitting it? And when?’ Peter asked, his curiosity peaked.

‘Not yet.’

‘All right’ Peter sighed. ‘I’ll get the team together, start organizing some surveillance.’

‘What about Caffrey?’ Reese Hughes said. ‘Do you think he might be able to give us a hand with this one? Maybe he can work his contacts out on the street.’

As time passed, Neal’s contacts had begun to dwindle but Mozzie was always good at keeping his ear to the ground. Besides, Peter wasn't sure if Neal would be up to working a case; he had his hands full with Hope and Sara still wasn't back to her old self.

‘Wouldn’t hurt to ask’ Peter said with a shrug.

WCWCWC

Scott was instantly on his feet, handing Hope to her dad as he noticed his boss stepping out from the back of the store, looking irate. He'd already been chastised once for being late and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to the fact that his break had been over for more than ten minutes.

‘That’s him. I better get back to work’ Scott mumbled as he stood and immediately returned to his post, filling unending drink orders.

Neal glanced over his shoulder, noticing the manager speaking to the young woman behind the cash, loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘I’m going out, I’ll be back in a while’ he said as the young woman nodded in understanding.

Neal turned away, not wanting to draw attention to himself and he shielded his face with Hope’s body. If he was going to help Scott, he wanted to remain incognito - at least for the time being. He watched the man head out in the same direction he’d seen Jimmy leave minutes earlier.

Hope tapped her dad’s face, hoping for some attention.

‘Poppa!’ she cried out as his devious mind began to go into overdrive.

‘Poppa!’ she repeated, louder as she thumped his face more insistently.

‘Ouch’ he cried out with a frown as the unruly toddler giggled at his reaction. His mind returned to the plan that was slowly being hatched in his overactive mind. He stood with Hope in his arms and walked towards the counter where Scott and another young man were busy preparing hot drinks.

Scott’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Neal making his way towards the back of the store which housed the office, the stock room, a small staff room and the public washrooms. Neal gave him a head nod in that direction and watched as Scott stepped away, asking his co-worker to cover for him while he used the washroom.

‘What?’ he whispered as he caught up to Neal.

‘Here, take Hope for a minute. I’m going to take a look around the office’ he said, reaching in his pocket and coming up with his trusted lock pick set.

‘Neal!’ he whispered. ‘No. You’re going to get caught’ Scott warned as he nervously glanced around.

Neal gave him a self-assured glare and a devious smile. ‘Just keep an eye on Hope for a minute’ he repeated.

‘Pipi’ Hope moaned as she was passed from her dad to the young man, squirming in his arms.

‘How do I…’ Scott began, looking totally overwhelmed by the four letter word she’d uttered.

‘You survived eighteen months in jail, I’m sure you can put a toddler on the toilet and watch her pee’ Neal murmured as he began working on the door’s lock, almost immediately hearing the telltale click.

He gave Scott a knowing eyebrow wag.

‘Just keep an eye out’ he added with a shrewd smile as he slipped into the small room and closed the door behind him.

‘Pipi!’ Hope repeated, more insistently as Scott stared at the closed office door, his heart pumping madly in his chest.

Hope began to moan softly as she struggled with her urgent need to use the toilet.

‘Cott, pipi’ she said a third time just as the front door to the coffee shop opened to reveal the manager standing there, looking frustrated.

‘Forgot my damn phone’ he grumbled to no one in particular.

Panicked, Scott gave an urgent knock on the office door and disappeared into the nearby washroom with Hope in tow.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Scott was about to close the washroom door when he heard his boss’ booming voice and he cringed at the thought of what was about to happen.

‘Rivers!’ the man shouted as he fiddled with his keys. ‘What the hell are you doing with that crying baby in your arms?’

‘Just… just helping out a customer who’s in the other washroom’ Scott lied.

‘Well, get back to work. I don't pay you to babysit’ he griped as he slipped his key into the lock of the office door. ‘And shut that kid up, she’s bothering the customers.’

‘Yes sir’ Scott mumbled, thinking fast.

‘Oh, Michael…’ he added, trying to buy Neal a few more seconds - for all the good that would do. ‘I was wondering if I could have some time off on Saturday… I’ve got this -’

The man glared at Scott. He was already running late and in no mood to entertain requests for time off. 

‘I’ll let you know’ he growled. ‘Now get back to work!’

Hope’s crying intensified and Scott closed the bathroom door behind him, hoping to see to her pressing need to use the toilet and keep her from becoming even more upset. Barring an earthquake or some other unforeseen calamity, there was nothing more he could do for Neal, except keep his fingers crossed and hope Neal had figured out a way to stay out of sight.

He proceeded to crouch down in front of little Hope, whose crying had graduated to unconsolable sobs and he held her steady on the toilet seat to keep her from falling in. Alas, it was all in vain. He could see that her training pants were soaked all the way through to her cute little polka dot pants. His attention was torn between trying to keep Hope calm and listening in to what was happening right outside the door - not that that was an easy feat, considering the increasingly loud sobbing.

‘Pipi pants’ Hope cried, upset, as a few last drops dribbled into the toilet.

‘It’s okay Hope, it’s okay. Your daddy will be right back’ Scott said reassuringly as he helped her off the toilet. Truth was, he had no way of knowing if that was really the case. For all he knew, Neal was on the verge of being arrested for breaking and entering and was about to be carted off to jail, never to be seen again.

WCWCWC

The sound of a sharp knock, followed by the clinking of keys got Neal’s blood pumping. He had a brief moment of panic as he realized he’d barely had a chance to poke around and yet, he was about to be found out.

What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? After all that talk about how much he loved his new life and how important it was for him to stay focussed on his family, he'd just done something stupid and impulsive - all because he couldn't walk away from the excitement and intrigue.

He glanced around the small space looking for possible exits, realizing there was no way he was slipping out of the windowless room undetected. His only hope was to find somewhere to hide and pray the guy was just returning to pick up something he’d forgotten.

Following a mumbled exchange of words between Scott and his boss, intermingled with Hope’s loud moans, Neal heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock. He moved stealthily to stand right behind the door, pressing his body up against the wall and hoping the sound of his breathing wouldn't betray him. The door opened wide, giving him cover and through the crack in the door he saw the man appear, swearing under his breath as he moved things around on his desk, obviously searching for something. He finally located his phone which had been buried under the mess and as quickly as he’d appeared, he stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

Neal let out an audible sigh of relief and waited until he couldn't hear any noise coming from the hallway outside the door - except for Hope’s howling, that is, echoing loud and clear throughout the entire coffee shop. The crying grew louder and suddenly there was another sharp rap on the door right up against his prying ear, causing him to practically jump out of his skin.

‘Neal!’ he heard Scott’s voice call out over his daughter’s cries.

Neal unlocked the door, making certain to engage the lock and he slipped out, joining his unwitting accomplices in the hallway.

‘Poppa!’ Hope cried breathlessly as she put out her arms for him. 

Neal felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of her, upset at having made a mess - something that wasn't entirely her doing, considering she’d been left in the care of poor, hapless Scott who hadn't quite been up to the task. Hope’s pants were halfway down her legs and Neal could see that her little trip to the washroom had been for naught.

He reached for his daughter, grimacing at the state she was in.

‘Oh, baby. I’m sorry’ he said apologetically. ‘Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.’

WCWCWC

Neal was uncharacteristically quiet all through dinner. Although he'd felt a fleeting - and all too familiar - rush of exhilaration from breaking into the office, it had come at a price and he felt terrible about leaving Scott to tend to Hope and subjecting his daughter to his poor judgement.

‘What’s up?’ Sara said between bites. ‘You’ve hardly said a word since I got home.’

Neal glanced over at Hope, sitting in her booster seat, eating with gusto and seemingly no worse for wear. Once in the washroom of the Starbucks, he’d managed to get her into the change of clothes he always carried around with him but she’d remained in a bad mood all the way home - and who could blame her. He gave her a loving smile and patted her back, leaning over to kiss the top of her head in search of absolution for his reckless behaviour.

‘Hope and I went to visit Scott today’ he said, feeling the need to come clean to his wife about his little foray to the dark side.

He knew all too well that the one thing Sara hated even more than Neal straying from his commitment to go straight was him lying about it when he couldn't quite manage it.

‘Oh yeah? How did that go?’ she asked.

Neal set down his fork and took a deep breath as he acquainted himself with the feeling of remorse in his gut. He was still learning to recognize the sensation - something that had been foreign to him until he'd become a married man.

‘Remember Jimmy the Greek?’ he asked, out of the blue.

Sara frowned and shook her head; the name didn't sound familiar.

‘He was the fence on that botched up recovery where you got hurt a few years back’ Neal reminded her.

‘Oh yeah. The guy from Mozzie’s blacklist?’ she recalled vaguely.

‘Yeah. Well, he was there… at the coffee shop today. He went into the back room with the manager…’

Sara looked up, puzzled, sensing there was a lot more to the story.

‘And you’re telling me this because…’ she said, wagging her fork.

‘Well, Mozzie says the guy’s been crowing for weeks about some big heist he’s about to pull’ he said, slowly working his way to admitting his transgression.

Sara frowned for an instant before she clued in to what was happening. ‘What did you do, Neal?’ she asked, her tone accusatory.

He tried one of his signature smiles although he knew it no longer had any effect on her, not anymore. ’What do you mean what did I do?’ he deflected.

‘I know that look, Caffrey. When you get curious about something, you just can't let it go.’

He looked away and raised his eyebrows; how did she know him so well when he'd always been able to fool almost everyone else he'd ever crossed paths with. He returned his eyes to her, taking the plunge.

‘I might have snuck into the office just to look around after the guy left…’ he began, bracing for what was to come.

‘Neal! You didn’t’ she shouted as Hope looked up to see what was happening.

Neal cringed. ’I just… I wanted to see if there was anything back there that could tie him to anything’ he said, trying to justify his actions. ‘You know… after what Scott said the other night.’

Sara shook her head in frustration. She loved all of him and although she hated to admit it, that included the scoundrel that still lurked beneath the surface.

‘You didn’t… _break in_ , did you? I’ she asked, looking for the silver lining.

There was a fine line between forcible entry and being in the right place at the right time and just ‘happening upon’ some information of interest. She could immediately surmise the answer to her question by the way Neal opened his mouth to speak only to close it again and give her a pitiful look of remorse.

‘Define ‘ _break in_ ’ he finally said.

‘Neal! What were you thinking? You just spent Saturday night lecturing Scott on the merits of life on the straight and narrow… and then you go and do something like this!’

‘I know, I know’ he admitted. ‘I did it for him…’ he attempted, the fib tasting sour in his mouth.

Sara looked him straight in the eye and just glared at him.

He charged ahead. ’Okay, fine. I admit it, it was exciting but… honey, I really don't want Scott to get caught up in anything illegal. He’s still on probation.’

‘Oh, but it’s okay for you to put everything at risk by breaking and entering’ she scolded, obviously annoyed.

‘It wasn’t…’ he began before clamming up again. ‘All right, all right, it was stupid and impulsive but I’m telling you, Sara, something’s going on over there. I can feel it. I’m gonna call Peter after dinner and see if he’s heard anything.’

Sara sighed loudly and stood from the table, pretending to be more upset than she really was.

‘Just don’t land yourself behind bars, Caffrey’ she admonished. ‘I’ve already told you…I don’t _do_ conjugal visits.’

Neal watched her turn away, the remorse in his gut morphing into outright guilt.

WCWCWC

‘Jimmy the Greek?’ Peter repeated. ‘Isn’t he the guy we shook down after Sara got attacked three years ago?’

‘The very one’ Neal responded.

He could hear silence on the other end as Peter reflected. There was obviously something his best friend wasn't telling him.

‘What? What is it?’ Neal asked, suddenly impatient.

‘I don’t know…’ Peter mused. ‘Maybe it’s nothing but we got intel today that someone’s planning to hit a gallery in the Chelsea District. Apparently, they’re hosting an exhibit of twentieth century art.’

‘You mean the ‘State of the Art’ exhibit at the Nicole Stinson Gallery?’ Neal asked, his voice growing excited.

‘How do you always know these things?’ Peter asked, slightly miffed that Neal seemed to know all about it.

‘I _read_ Peter!’ Neal replied, deadpan.

‘Anyway, everybody’s talking about it. They’re displaying Warhol’s self portrait and Pollock’s ‘Going West’ Neal continued, his voice coming alive. ‘Oh, and they’ve got a Rothko… I’m not sure which one.’

‘I don’t know, Neal. Maybe Jimmy has nothing to do with this intel we got…’

‘Or maybe Jimmy’s our way in to figure out what’s going on. According to Moz, this guy’s blabbing to whoever will listen that he’s on the verge of a huge score’ Neal countered.

After a moment, Peter spoke again. ‘So, who _is_ this guy Scott’s working with anyway?’ he asked.

‘His name’s Michael Pearson’ Neal said.

‘I’ll check in the morning, see if we’ve got anything on him’ Peter said.

‘He’s done time, Peter. Scott told me the other night - but he doesn't know what for.’

Peter grumbled. ‘It could be domestic abuse for all we know.’

Neal felt himself deflating at Peter’s lack of enthusiasm. His spidey senses were tingling and although he couldn't prove anything, he just _knew_ that the FBI’s intel and the meeting he'd witnessed between Jimmy and Michael Pearson were somehow related.

‘Look, until we get solid evidence that there’s a link between this guy and the intel we got….’ Peter said, pausing and recalling all those times Neal had charged ahead without thinking things through.

‘Just… just don’t do anything stupid!’ he warned, an all too familiar refrain - one which had often gone unheeded over the years.

But it was too late, the wheels were already churning away in Neal’s mind.

‘Neal, I mean it. It’s not worth it’ Peter cautioned in response to his best friend’s silence.

‘Peter, how am I supposed to get you the evidence you need if I stay out of it?’ Neal asked, tipping his hand.

Peter realized his warning was in vain. Neal was going to do what Neal was going to do. ’Whatever you do, _don’t_ get caught. I don’t want to get a call asking me to come down and bail you out.’

‘Peter! You wound me!’ Neal replied with a devious smile.

Peter scoffed at Neal’s cavalier attitude. ‘Look, truth is, I was going to call you anyway. Hughes suggested I get in touch and see if you want to give us a hand following the breadcrumbs from this intel.’

‘Yeah?’ Neal said, his chest puffing just a little. ‘Hughes suggested it?’

‘Stop gloating’ Peter said with a knowing smile. ‘So, what do you say? I’ve called the team together for nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

Neal thought ahead to Sara’s appointment at the cancer clinic the following morning. ‘Sara’s got that follow-up tomorrow morning at the clinic’ he said. ‘But I could pop by afterwards.’

‘See you then’ Peter said before hanging up.

WCWCWC

Neal was itching to get back in that office to see what he could find. Any indication that Pearson was involved in planning a heist could mean a big break for Peter and his team and would ensure that Scott didn't get himself caught in the crossfire. Neal was already concocting an excuse to sneak back out to Brooklyn when fate intervened in the form of Hope’s turbulent disposition. 

‘Neal!’ Sara called out from upstairs. ‘Do you have Hope’s elephant down there?’

He made his way to the bag he always carried around whenever he and Hope were out together and his nostrils were assaulted by the unpleasant odour of the clothes he'd changed her out of before they’d left the Starbucks that afternoon. He removed the clothing gingerly and threw them in the nearby pile of dirty laundry as he proceeded to root through the bag, searching for Hope’s favourite stuffed animal, a gift from her beloved godfather.

‘No, it’s not here’ he shouted back. ‘Are you sure she didn't bring it upstairs?’

‘Effant!’ he could hear Hope saying in the distance as Sara ostensibly got her ready for bed.

Suddenly, the light went on and Neal flashed back to Hope sitting on Scott’s lap in the coffee shop, sipping hot chocolate and pretending to feed her hungry pink elephant.

‘Shit!’ he muttered under his breath as he realized it had likely been left at the table where they’d sat that afternoon.

He climbed the stairs, finding his wife and daughter snuggled together on Hope’s bed, a book open on Sara’s lap. Elephant was definitely Hope’s favourite stuffed toy despite the fact it had faded over time as a result of having been put through the wash one too many times. Before nodding off, Hope usually curled up with one arm around the stuffed toy, caressing his ear with one hand while sticking her other thumb in her mouth.

In an attempt to avoid a major meltdown, Neal made his way over to the shelf which housed a number of her toys and grabbed for the cute teddy bear which had been a gift from her grandma June on her most recent birthday.

‘Here honey’ he began as he handed it to a sleepy looking Hope. ‘Why don't you sleep with your teddy bear tonight. He never gets a chance to sleep with you.’

Sara gave him a questioning look and a shrug and Neal glared back, mouthing something to heras Hope studied the brown bear.

Sara’s eyes grew as she decoded Neal’s words and realized with concern that Hope’s pink elephant was going to be spending the night in Brooklyn.

‘No Poppa!’ Hope said adamantly. ‘Hope want Effant!’

‘Well then, what about _this_ little guy, Panda? Remember, we bought him for you when we went to the museum’ Neal suggested, handing her a second toy. ‘You choose, which one of these two would you like to sleep with tonight?’

‘NO!’ Hope said, louder. ‘EFFANT!’

Neal could see that conning his daughter wasn’t having the desired effect - he was going to have to come clean. 

‘Honey, I think we might have forgotten Elephant at the coffee shop today. Remember? You were playing with him while you were sitting on Scott’s lap?’

‘EFFANT! EFFANT!’ Hope cried, tears forming in her eyes. ‘HOPE WANT EFFANT!’

Neal and Sara exchanged concerned looks, hoping to avoid a tsunami but fearing the worst.

‘Sweetheart, Scott will take good care of Elephant and tomorrow, you and Daddy can go back and get him’ Sara suggested, a perfectly reasonable plan it seemed - unless you were a tired, cranky two-year-old who was on the verge of a temper tantrum.

‘NOOOOO!’ she shrieked as she pulled away from her mother and began to scream. ‘E-FFANT!’

Sara rolled her eyes. Knowing her daughter, it was unlikely she would relent; she could easily outlast them - as she’d proven all too often over the last couple of weeks.

It was almost an hour to Brooklyn and another hour back and Sara gave Neal that look - _let’s give in and cut our losses if we want to get any sleep tonight._

‘All right, sweet pea. Daddy’s going to go get him… but it’s going to take a while’ Neal warned over the loud cries.

‘Just go… and hurry!’ Sara said as she moved away to protect herself from the kicking legs and sharp elbows.

Neal leaned down to kiss Sara. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can’ he whispered.

WCWCWC

A quick call to Scott’s cell phone confirmed that Elephant was indeed lying under the table where they’d left him, undetected, as people came and went all day. Neal informed the young man that he was heading back and would be there in plenty of time for him to close up at 9:00.

Neal felt his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He was pretty sure the trepidation had more to do with the growing intrigue than the stuffed toy he was on his way to retrieve.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Neal’s phone rang as he turned onto Front Street in Brooklyn, hunting for a parking spot.

‘Are you there yet?’ came Sara’s voice.

‘Just pulling up now’ he replied. ‘How are things over there?’

‘I just wanted to let you know she finally fell asleep on the floor by her bed so… no need to break the speed limit rushing to get back here.’

Neal imagined his tempestuous daughter, lying on the floor, hair mussed, tear streaked face, crying herself to sleep. His heart melted at the thought.

‘Okay babe. In that case, I might stay and have coffee with Scott if he’s not too busy.’

‘Coffee? Is that what you’re calling it now?’ Sara asked - and he could well imagine the mischievous grin on her face.

‘I won’t be late… but don't wait up’ Neal said with a matching grin.

‘Just… be careful Caffrey’ she answered, resigned.

‘Love you’ he said before signing off.

WCWCWC

In contrast to that afternoon, the place was much quieter now that the sun had gone down. The neighbourhood was mostly residential and parents were busy tucking their kids into bed at this hour. When Neal walked in, he noticed a couple of customers, staring at their computer screens, an empty cup by their side, a sign they had been there for hours on end and were mostly dawdling so they could take advantage of the free wifi.

Upon hearing the door open, Scott looked up and raised the stuffed toy over his head in victory as Neal smiled in response.

‘There’ll be hell to pay if I don't bring this little guy back with me’ he commented as he took the pink elephant from Scott’s hand.

‘So, do you have time to sit and chat?’ Scott asked. ‘I’m told I make a mean latte.’

‘Make it decaf and you’ve got yourself a deal’ Neal said, taking a seat at a nearby table.

A woman came in behind him and ordered a cappuccino to go and Scott busied himself with filling her order before bringing a couple of drinks over to where Neal sat, waiting for him.

‘Do you often close the store at night?’ Neal asked as he blew on his coffee to cool it a little.

‘A couple of nights a week’ Scott answered. ‘Luckily, we close early. Some of our other locations don’t close until eleven. This way I get a couple of hours to study before I have to hit the sack.’

Neal nodded and stared down at his cup ‘Look, Scott, I’m really sorry about this afternoon… leaving you alone with Hope. I guess I got a little carried away.’

Scott waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Don’t worry about it. Hope and I are best buds by now.’

Neal laughed. ‘Well, she _is_ crazy about you’ he remarked. ‘But I shouldn’t have been so impulsive. I could have gotten you fired. I guess I saw my chance and I wanted to take it.’

Scott shrugged.

‘And what I said the other night’ Neal continued. ‘I meant every word… but I have to admit I do still get the urge to jump in, especially if I think something’s… not right. The difference is, nowadays, I’m playing for the other team.’

‘It’s okay. You don't have to worry about corrupting me’ Scott said with a smirk. ‘I’m _already_ corrupt, remember?’

Neal looked back, suddenly serious. ‘That’s just it, Scott. I want you to know that life on this side of the fence is infinitely better than spending your life looking over your shoulder.’

There was the scraping of a chair against the wooden floor as one of the women stood and collected her things, heading for the door.

‘Goodnight!’ Scott called out as she waved, closing the door behind her.

Neal dropped his voice and leaned in. ‘Peter heard from one of the Bureau’s CIs that there’s a crew organizing to hit a gallery in the Chelsea District. I think your boss and that fence he met with today might be in on it.’

Scott’s eyes grew wide. ‘Wow!’ he said.

‘I’m going to work on the case with Peter and his team… see what we can figure out’ Neal said, eyeing the office out of the corner of his eye. ‘It would really help if I could get my hands on something… anything to point us in the right direction. Does your boss ever drop in at closing time?’

Scott shook his head. ‘No, he lives out in the Bronx’ he replied, reading between the lines.

He stood, gesturing towards the counter. ‘If you don't mind, I’m going to go get started on the clean up’ he said.

Neal glanced around the coffee shop, noticing one last customer, a young woman sitting at the table that was furthest from the backrooms.

He got to his feet. ‘I’m going to use the washroom before I hit the road’ he said with a wink.

‘Take your time’ said Scott.

WCWCWC

The banker’s lamp which sat on the cluttered desk had been left on and Neal gently closed the door behind him, taking the time to slip on a pair of gloves. He turned on the overhead light and the room was suddenly flooded in a pale white glow. The office was just as it had been earlier in the day and Neal let his eyes sweep the room, looking for anything of interest. A lacklustre print of a Monet hung slightly crooked on the wall behind the desk and Neal immediately gravitated towards it. He wasn't the least bit surprised to find an in-wall safe hidden behind it.

The safe was on the small side, about eighteen inches square and it was secured by a key lock, no combination pad. Most likely the guy kept the key on him at all times but Neal began to snoop around for a copy, just in case. He ran his hand under the edge of the desk and began rummaging through the desk drawers, careful to leave things as he’d found them.

The second drawer yielded an interesting discovery - a colourful pamphlet promoting the exhibit in Chelsea which was set to begin on the following Monday evening. Neal examined the four sided flyer, complete with photographs of some of the art that would be on display. A few of the pieces were circled with a bold black marker including one Neal recognized from his earlier days travelling the country and the world looking for new acquisitions. He remembered seeing Mark Rothko’s ‘Entrance to Subway’ prominently displayed at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles when he'd cased the place more than ten years earlier. He’d spent an hour admiring the expressionist painting and a smile crossed his lips as he briefly recalled those days - the excitement of planning a heist, the thrill of carrying it out and the amazing high that always followed a flawless execution.

He took out his phone and proceeded to snap a few pictures, noticing two telephone numbers jotted down on the back of the brochure. He put things back as he'd found them and considering his search for the safe’s key had been unfruitful, he moved on to plan B and proceeded to pull out his lock pick set for the third time that day.

It took a little doing but Neal’s patience paid off and the door to the safe opened with a quiet click. He spotted a stack of $100 bills and reached past it, his hand grazing a gun as he moved it aside to see what else was in there. Stashed in the back, he discovered what he estimated to be close to half a kilogram of cocaine - no small discovery considering its street value of anywhere from $30,000 to $50,000. He spotted a dozen or so smaller bags of the stuff he estimated to be eight balls and one gram bags. Whatever else this guy was involved with, he was clearly dealing right from his office - which might explain all the comings and goings Scott had witnessed.

The pamphlet, in and of itself, didn't prove a thing but considering the circumstances, it was more than of passing interest. Neal took one last glance at the pile of papers littering the desk top and spotted the edge of a what looked like a floor plan. He pulled it out of the pile gingerly, intent on not leaving any sign of his passage. Upon examination, he could see that it was the plan for the electrical system of an unidentified building, complete with handwritten annotations. He pulled out his phone to take a few more pictures, resolving to pay a little visit to the Nicole Stinson Gallery to check out their layout. He glanced around the room one last time, making sure he had not left any signs of having been there and he prepared to exit the same way he’d come in.

WCWCWC

‘It’s right up here on the left’ Scott said as Neal drove up the quiet street.

Scott’s classes were held at the Brooklyn campus of NYU and he’d snagged a room in nearby Bushwick, a section of the city which held the unenviable title of second worse neighbourhood in New York. The house Scott pointed to was probably the most dilapidated on the street and Neal’s heart tightened at the thought of the young man having to live in such poor accommodations. He thought back to the hotel Peter had dropped him off at when he’d first been released from prison. He’d been lucky enough to bump into June Ellington but not everyone could be so fortunate. Who would step up to be Scott Rivers’ guardian angel?

‘So you’re really not going to tell me anything about what you found?’ Scott asked for the third time.

Neal gave him a wary look. ‘I told you, I was in the washroom’ he replied as he had, both previous times.

He studied Scott face, appearing tense under the pale street light. ‘Look, it’s better this way. Just… just keep your nose clean and you won’t get into any trouble’ Neal said, feeling protective of the young man.

‘Plausible deniability?’ Scott asked.

‘Words to live by’ Neal responded with a grin. ‘Look, why don’t you come over to our place this weekend. I’m trying to surprise Sara with an anniversary dinner on Saturday night but I’m sure we can find some other time for you to come over… you could spend some time with Hope.’

Scott’s face seemed to brighten at the proposition. ‘That’d be great’ he agreed.

‘All right, I’ll be in touch’ Neal said as Scott stepped out into the night.

Neal watched until he’d disappeared into the squalid building before letting out a sigh and taking off - back to White Plains and to Sara.

WCWCWC

Neal slipped into Hope’s bedroom with the precious cargo in his hands. As always, her thumb was firmly buried in her mouth and her dark hair hung in her face as she slept peacefully, with nary a sign of her earlier outburst. He took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, running his hand gently through her hair and gazing at her beautiful little face, so perfectly… perfect. He gently lifted her arm and tucked the beloved pink elephant against her body as she snorted, her thumb falling away listlessly from her mouth.

‘I love you, sweet pea’ Neal murmured as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘Sweet dreams!’

He made a short detour to the bathroom and returned to find Sara sitting up in bed with the laptop open. She moved quickly to close it but not fast enough - Neal could see she’d been doing research in preparation for their morning appointment at Sloan Kettering. He slipped in next to her, waiting to see if she would bring it up, which of course she didn’t.

‘So, how did your little fishing expedition go?’ she asked instead.

‘Interesting’ he volunteered, unwilling to give her any fodder for further recriminations. ‘Scott makes a mean latte.’

‘Right…’ Sara said with a cautious nod.

Neal settled in on his back and Sara instantly curled up in his arms. ‘So, how long did it take before she settled down?’ he asked.

‘About forty-five minutes’ Sara said wistfully. ‘I just stayed out of her way until she finished and when I heard things quiet down, I went back in and found her sound asleep with her teddy bear in one arm and the panda in the other.’

Neal sighed; they'd both be happy when Hope finally grew out of this awkward stage.

‘So, are we going to pretend we don't have that appointment in the morning?’ he asked softly, his fingers gently caressing her shoulder.

‘Sure, I’m good with denial’ she answered sardonically, growing tense in his arms.

Neal pulled away to get a look at her face, intent on getting the real goods. ‘I saw what you were checking out on the computer just now.’

Sara frowned at her husband’s exceptional observation skills. ‘It doesn't do any good to talk about it, Neal’ she said, sounding defeated.

‘Of course it does’ Neal countered, his eyes narrowing. ‘I want to know how you’re feeling about it.’

‘How I’m feeling?’ she responded, sounding defeated. ‘I’m feeling like… like this is _never_ going to end.’

Neal nodded knowingly. The current state of Sara’s health was like a dark cloud that followed them wherever they went and whatever else was happening in their lives, even the good stuff. They had begun the new year with cautious optimism. Sara’s treatments had ended in early December and she’d gotten the all clear following her first CT scan. The second one, six weeks later, had shown an abnormality in the size of some of Sara’s lymph nodes. The doctors had downplayed the development, opting to monitor the situation and sure enough in March, Sara had been hit with a vile throat and ear infection which had taken her weeks to shake completely - a likely explanation for the swollen lymph nodes. But even after she’d gotten better, the lymph nodes remained swollen and the couple’s worries lingered. The possibility of a second round of chemotherapy had been discussed but in the absence of any other worrisome changes to Sara’s health, the specialist had recommended patience for a little while longer.

‘Neal, what are we going to do if there’s still no change. I don't think I can go through all that again’ Sara admitted.

Neal picked up on the soft wavering in her voice. ’Nobody’s saying you have to, babe’ he replied, cradling her body against his.

‘But - ’ Sara interjected, her voice small.

‘Sara, you can’t be thinking the worst, not when you’ve come this far’ he added.

She grew quiet and he wondered if he might have stepped over the line and upset that delicate balance between remaining positive and downplaying her very real fears.

‘Why don't we see what they tell us tomorrow, okay?’ he murmured, trying to reassure his wife. ‘And I’ll be there with you…we’ll figure things out together.’

He felt her nodding against his chest and ran his hand over her short head of hair. ‘I know you don't believe me but I really _do_ like your hair like this’ he added. ‘It’s so soft.’

Sara scoffed in response. Neal was pretty transparent in his attempts to keep her mind occupied. If this was like any other night before a check-in, she’d likely be getting very little sleep and he made it his job to keep her focussed on anything but the impending visit.

‘You want to play cards?’ he added playfully, in an obvious attempt at distracting her.

Despite her sombre mood, Sara couldn't hold back a giggle. ‘Cards, huh?’

‘Yeah, strip poker comes to mind’ he teased as he brought his lips to the tip of her nose.

Sara’s mood seemed to brighten at the thought. It was going to be a long night, why not pass the time with a little one on one.

She gave him an exaggerated pout. ‘But I only have this itsy bitsy t-shirt on’ she complained as Neal wagged his eyebrows.

She sat up and, with her eyes glued to his pleasantly surprised face, she proceeded to lift the t-shirt over her head, throw it across the room and climb onto his lap as he stared back in amusement.

‘I forfeit’ she declared. ‘You win!’

WCWCWC

Despite Neal’s objections, Sara insisted on taking a cab from Sloan Kettering back to Sterling Bosch. Neal was headed to meet Peter at the Federal Building and the detour would take up to an hour in mid-day traffic - at least that’s what she’d argued.

She’d refused when he'd suggested they get lunch and debrief about the appointment before going their separate ways.

‘We’ll talk about it later’ she’d replied curtly before turning away from a worried Neal and climbing into the cab.

Of course, it wasn't about traffic at all. It was about Sara needing time to herself to digest the news the doctor had just given them. They were still newlyweds by most standards and Neal was quickly learning when to lean in and when to back off. His new wife was fiercely headstrong and independent and she’d been dealing with life’s up and downs on her own for years, beginning with her sister’s disappearance and her parents’ untimely passing. Neal kept reminding her they were a team now and that he wanted to share in the good news and the bad but her initial instinct was still to pull away whenever things got tough and although his heart broke whenever hers did, he was learning to accept it.

He navigated the streets of Manhattan as he replayed the conversation they’d just had with Dr. Patel, the immunologist Dr. Franklin had recommended. Unfortunately, it was more of the same, although there had been a slight reduction in size in two of the eight lymph nodes they were carefully monitoring. The doctor was encouraged by Sara’s general state of health and with nothing else of concern on her latest CT scan, he had recommended patience for a little while longer. That being said, he was leaving it entirely up to Sara to decide whether she wanted to be more aggressive and have a couple of preventive chemotherapy treatments in order to mitigate the risk.

Neal had seen the look of disappointment on his wife’s face as the doctor had gone over options with them. She was beyond ready to leave this chapter of her life behind and start living without the dark cloud hanging over her head - and frankly, so was Neal. Watching her suffer through surgery and the side effects of chemotherapy had taken just as much of a toll on him as it had on her. The loss of the baby she’d been carrying at the time of her cancer surgery had been another major blow and Neal still carried some residual guilt around the miscarriage.

There was the loud sound of a car horn as a yellow cab sped around him and Neal noticed he was already within a block of the Federal Building. He tapped his suit pocket to make sure he had his phone and prepared to meet with Peter.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

‘Jerome Goldberg!’ Peter announced as he threw a file folder down on the table and pushed it towards Neal.

‘What?’ Neal frowned, picking it up and peeking inside.

‘Jerome Goldberg’ Peter repeated. ‘That’s who your Michael Pearson is’.

Neal glanced down at the contents of the file including a long list of aliases and a photograph of the man he recognized from the day before.

‘First of all he's not _my_ Michael Pearson…’ he commented, eyebrows raised.

His eyes returned to the file.

‘Wow, that’s a very impressive list of aliases’ he continued with what Peter could have sworn was a look of admiration. ‘This guy’s been all over the place. How come we’ve never heard of him before?’

‘He doesn't hang around anywhere long enough… and he takes on a new identity each time. He’s been traveling the country - targets specific items for clients, mostly art. Remember the Mondrian that disappeared a while back?’

‘The Red Tree?’ Neal asked as Peter did a mental eye roll at the younger man’s encyclopedic knowledge of everything artsy.

‘Well, I talked to our Chicago office this morning. They think he might have been behind that one. They had him in their crosshairs but he slipped away. And before that, he was reportedly linked to some thefts in Houston, Memphis and Miami.’

‘Does the Bureau have enough to arrest him?’ Neal asked.

Peter shook his head. ’Circumstantial at best’ he said. ‘We don’t have anything on him that’ll stick.’

Neal’s eyes widened and a mischievous smile appeared on his lips. It was always impressive to come across a thief who was clever enough to outsmart the feds and was able to cover his tracks without leaving any trace of evidence behind.

Peter stared back at his ex-partner. He _knew_ that look, he'd gotten used to that look and truth be told, he would miss it if and when the day came Neal no longer got that look of mischief in his eyes. It was part of his best friend’s appeal - a combination of awe at the exploits of a fellow thief and unbridled excitement at the thought of being the one who would bring him down.

‘His hair is darker’ Neal commented as he examined the photograph. ‘And now he’s wearing a beard.’

His eyes rose to meet Peter’s. ‘So, how do you want to handle it?’ he asked, although Peter expected that, as always, Neal would have plenty of suggestions of his own to make.

‘We’ve got eyes on him for the time being, that way we can keep tabs on who he's in touch with and what he might be planning.’

Neal’s eyes sparkled. ‘What if we tried to infiltrate his crew? Mozzie’s got an in with Jimmy the Greek.’

Peter shook his head. ‘I don't know, Neal. A security guard was shot in Memphis. This guy is a bit of a loose cannon. Do you really want to throw Mozzie into the middle of this?’

‘Not Mozzie’ Neal said. ‘But…’ he gave his eyebrows a wag which could only mean one thing.

‘I don’t know, Neal…’ Peter repeated.

‘I’d have to discuss it with Sara first… but… we could revive Nick Halden or maybe Gary Rydell?’ Neal suggested.

Peter’s face grew tense. ’You sure he didn't make you when you were there yesterday?’

Neal shook his head. ‘No, I was careful.’

Peter hesitated. ‘I don’t know, buddy… Let me run it by Reese.’

He stepped in closer to Neal, eager to hear what, if anything, Neal had been able to uncover during his visit to Goldberg’s place of work. 

‘So, did you find anything interesting while you were snooping around there last night?’ he asked.

Whatever evidence Neal might have uncovered could never be used as part of an official investigation but the information could point them in the right direction.

Neal gave a playful grin. ‘What makes you think I did any snooping?’

Peter rolled his eyes and leaned in. ‘C’mon Neal, don’t hold out on me.’

Neal took out his phone and Peter leaned in to get a good look at the screen. ‘What do you suppose those are?’ he asked pointing to the two telephone numbers which were scribbled on the exhibit’s pamphlet.

‘My guess is they’re probably numbers for his local associates but we should run them through the system anyway, just in case. And I found a wall safe in his office. The guy is dealing too - which might explain all those people Scott has been seeing going in and out.’

‘What if we sent you in for a buy? That way, we could get him for dealing, put a crimp in his plans for the gallery’ Peter suggested.

Neal shrugged. ‘He’d be out in no time if we don’t get anything else to pin on him.’

Peter nodded in agreement.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to the phone.

‘If my hunch is right, _that_ is the layout for the Stinson Gallery’ Neal said as the two men examined the electrical plans Neal had found on the desk.

Peter stepped away and gave Neal a satisfied smile. ‘Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.’

Neal’s face lit up. ’Mind if I tag along?’

WCWCWC

Jerome Goldberg aka Michael Pearson had been in a foul mood all morning. He’d yelled at his staff, threatened to fire everyone and had been holed up in his office for the past hour and a half.

He was livid; up until this point, things had gone off without a hitch. He’d invested four months in preparing for this job - first, by getting set up in the coffee shop, putting together a local crew and building up a clientele for his drug business to keep him afloat while they planned for the heist that would yield enough to keep him comfortable for the next little while.

Moving around from place to place meant he needed to invest time in building up a crew with each new city he was in - something he preferred to building long-term ties with other criminals who, over time, would know more about him than what he was prepared to share. This way, he set up a new alias, settled in a new place and once the job was done, he disappeared into the sunset and prepared for his next adventure.

But that MO didn't yield much loyalty and, after a heated argument about how to divvy up the proceeds, his security guy had just walked out on him with less than a week to go. The man’s unexpected exit had left him with a huge hole to fill on his team. 

But the icing on the cake had come about when he’d walked into his office that morning to find that someone had broken in overnight. The small piece of string he’d gotten into the habit of placing in the door jamb was on the floor at his feet, right by the door frame when he’d walked in that morning and he had a pretty good idea who’d been snooping around.

He’d regretted mentioning the fact that he’d done time to Scott Rivers - although he hadn't given any details or confessed that he was on the FBI watchlist for theft, embezzlement and money laundering. He’d liked the kid and at first, he’d thought he would make good addition to his team - after all, he’d demonstrated an uncanny talent for breaking into expensive homes on the East Coast. But Scott’s insistence that he wanted to go straight had put the kibosh on that idea and now, he suspected that the kid was spying on him, threatening to bring down what was destined to be a very lucrative job. He needed to take care of the budding problem before it brought down his whole operation.

There was a soft knock on the door and one of the baristas popped her head in.

‘There’s somebody here to see you’ she told her boss who waved impatiently, signalling her to let the person in.

A buyer, he realized, getting his head back in the game. ‘Let him in’ he groaned.

WCWCWC

‘FBI’ Peter said as he flashed his badge at the young man who welcomed them to the Nicole Stinson Gallery.

The young man’s eyes grew in response; he’d never seen a real, honest to goodness FBI badge - or agent for that matter. ‘FBI?’ he stuttered nervously.

‘Is the owner around?’ Peter asked as Neal began to snoop around, getting the lay of the land.

‘No, she’s at a meeting’ the young man said, seemingly intimidated.

‘We want to talk to her about the exhibit you’ll be hosting next week. Do you know when she’ll be back?’ Peter asked.

‘Shouldn’t be too long if you want to wait’ the young man said.

‘We’ll just have a quick look around in the meantime’ Peter informed him as he joined Neal who was already busy comparing the lay-out of the gallery with the electrical plans he’d found in Goldberg’s office.

The two men exchanged knowing glances as they looked around. This was definitely the place which was depicted on the plan. Neal walked over to the electrical panel towards the back of the store where the controls for the alarm system were located and gave it a rudimentary examination.

‘This system’s been updated just recently - it’s only been on the market for about three months’ he murmured as Peter looked on with interest. ‘Probably getting ready for the exhibit.’

Peter nodded; the fact that Neal would know what type of security systems were newly on the market no longer surprised him.

‘The plans are up to date though?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. Someone’s feeding our guy up to the minute details’ Neal concluded as he examined the electrical plans once more.

The two men walked around the space, noting that the first floor’s walls were all but bare in preparation for the arrival of the exhibition.

‘Do you know when the artwork for the exhibit will be arriving?’ Peter asked the young man.

‘I’m not sure’ he admitted. ‘But we’re closing for the weekend and the exhibit starts on Monday night.’

Peter nodded and thanked him, returning to the job of scoping the place - which, it appeared, was the target of a very daring theft.

The young man remained by the front of the store, ostensibly working at a small desk in the corner. Unbeknownst to his visitors, he grabbed for his phone, hands shaking as he prepared to send a text message. He’d been paid very well to keep some hereto unknown person in the loop about anything that might be happening in connection with the exhibit. His benefactor would surely want to know that the FBI was snooping around.

WCWCWC

Sara Ellis had managed to shake off the worrisome news she’d heard that morning and she’d gotten down to business the moment she’d stepped into her office at Sterling Bosch. She had the uncanny ability of compartmentalizing the different areas of her life whenever she needed to — after all, she’d lived her whole life that way and it was often a question of survival for the high strung insurance investigator.

After a few hours of productive work, she turned her mind to the plans she’d been concocting for the upcoming weekend. She and Neal would be celebrating their second year wedding anniversary and she’d planned a couple of surprises for her husband - one of which she sat, staring at on her computer screen. Neal was a stickler for tradition and she’d begun to search for just the right present a few weeks back, noting with a certain lack of enthusiasm that the theme for a second year wedding anniversary was cotton.

Cotton.

Seriously.

How utterly boring, she’d thought as she’d allowed herself to peek ahead to year three: leather. Now _that_ had a lot more potential she reflected, imagining a beautiful handbag or jacket in buttery leather.

Neal’s gifts to those he loved were always well researched and thought out and nothing was ever left to chance. If she knew her husband, he was preparing to surprise her with some innovative gift that no one else would ever think of, all the while respecting the traditions of anniversary gift-giving. She was feeling pretty pleased with herself as she stared at her computer screen. All that was left was to call Peter and Mozzie and ask for their help in getting the gift set up while she took Neal out for a special anniversary dinner.

There was one more thing she needed to do and she picked up the phone and dialled the number for one of their favourite restaurants, Babbo, located in the Village. Since Hope had arrived in their lives, they hadn’t had much time to indulge in visiting those five-star restaurants they were both so fond of and had indulged in back when they lived in Manhattan.

‘Hi, this is Sara Ellis’ she said into the phone. ‘I have a reservation for two for Saturday night. I wonder if you could prepare a special anniversary cake for two? I’m thinking your roasted white chocolate cake’ she said, recalling how Neal had raved about it and had tried to recreate it at home, without luck.

‘Thanks’ she said, hanging up and smiling smugly.

Satisfied, she returned to business.

WCWCWC

Scott kept an eye on the back rooms as he continued to fill drink orders for the customers coming through the drive-thru. He’d noticed a guy go into his boss’ office and he was dying to know what was being discussed.

‘Heather, I’m just going to the stockroom to get some more decaf’ he said as he made his way to the storage room, located right between the office and the public washrooms.

Once there, he dawdled, bringing his ear up to the wall in the hopes of overhearing the conversation. With any luck he might get some information that would help Neal and Peter figure out what was going on. But after a few moments, all he’d gotten for his efforts was the mumbled sound of muted voices and a sudden crick in his neck.

Neal was right. He had to be careful. His present status as parolee meant he was being watched like a hawk by his overeager parole officer, an older man with very strict scruples. His freedom was tenuous at best and his weekly visits to the parole office were a pain in the ass, complete with endless questions about his use of time and his plans for the future. But more humiliating than any of that was the random drug testing Scott had to endure. Drugs had never been his thing but rules were rules and he had to suffer through the maze for another few months before he could declare himself truly disentangled from the legal system. His arrest and subsequent jail time, however, would always be a matter of public record and that would continue to haunt him for years to come. He’d gotten a glimpse of what life was like as an ex-con when he’d tried to get this job and he really couldn't afford to lose it.

He heard some movement in the office and quickly grabbed something off the shelf, rushing to return to his post. He had just stepped out of the stockroom when the office door opened to reveal his boss standing there with hands on his hips, staring him down.

‘Rivers, what the hell are you doing, lurking?’ he asked, his voice accusatory.

‘I wasn’t lurking… I was… I was just getting some decaf from the stock room’ Scott lied, rather unconvincingly.

The man looked down at Scott’s hands, holding a large package of dark roast Arabica beans.

‘Well, I think you better get your eyes examined - that’s dark roast you’re holding’ the manager said sternly.

Scott blubbered and smiled hesitantly. He mumbled something and turned on his heels, returning to the stock room while his boss ushered his guest out of his office.

That’s it, the man realized, it was time to get rid of Scott Rivers before he managed to mess up his whole operation. He returned into his office and picked up the phone.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Dinnertime was usually a calm and orderly affair in the Caffrey home - except on those rare occasions when Sara Ellis was left alone to get dinner on the table. Luckily, her husband was not only an excellent cook but a very good planner and he always prepared several meals ahead of time so that all she had to do was take something out of the freezer and pop it in the oven.

On some days, however, even _that_ seemed like more than she could handle.

She stood at the kitchen counter chopping up some vegetables for a salad to accompany the three cheese lasagna while Hope fidgeted, grumpy and whiny, on the couch nearby.

‘Do you want some fishies, honey? she asked in an effort to keep her going until Neal got home.

‘NO!’ Hope responded with a pout.

Although she’d had a great day visiting with her best friend Olivia at the Mason home, she’d apparently saved her petulance and bad mood for when she got home so she could continue to torment her parents.

‘No, _thank you_ ’ Sara corrected, in her ongoing effort to encourage good manners.

‘NO!’ Hope repeated as Sara sighed and returned to chopping up some celery.

Hope’s daily routine with her daddy had been perturbed and she seemed to be taking it out on her mom. Sara decided she needed to choose her battles and she ignored the rudeness in favour of keeping the peace until Neal finally made it home for dinner.

The front door opened and her heart soared. ‘Neal, is that you?’

Mozzie appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with a broad smile on his face.

‘Honey, I’m home!’ he announced.

‘Mozzie…’ Sara moaned, unable to hide her disappointment.

‘Uncle Mossie!’ Hope shouted with glee as she got herself off the couch and straight into his arms.

‘Hey munchkin!’ he called out, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her over to the kitchen table.

‘Neal asked me to meet him here’ Mozzie said, eyes silently checking out the kitchen counter. 

Sara didn't bother to ask what he was looking for. She simply reached into the wine rack and pulled out a bottle of Valpolicella, placing it on the table alongside a couple of wine glasses and a corkscrew.

‘Here, why don't you open this?’ she suggested.

‘Are you staying for dinner?’ she continued, knowing full well the answer; if it wasn't for Neal’s home cooking, Mozzie would hardly ever eat.

Mozzie’s face grew finicky. ’What are we having?’ he asked, as if that made a difference.

‘Lasagna’ Sara replied without missing a beat.

He seemed to think for a moment. ‘I guess I can pick off the cheese’ he finally said.

‘Uccle Mossie cheese?’ Hope asked, her head popping up.

‘No sweetie. Uncle Mozzie is allergic to cheese’ he explained as she stared back, confused.

‘So, do you guys still need me to babysit on Saturday?’ Mozzie asked, turning his attention to the bottle of wine.

Hope’s eyes lit up - she knew what ‘babysit’ meant.

‘Pizza?’ she asked, pulling on his shirt sleeve in order to get his attention.

‘Of course we can have pizza, munchkin’ he answered, noticing Sara’s look of despair.

‘What? She’s two years old, let her live a little’ he countered. ‘So what’s this favour you need?’

Sara’s face brightened as she thought ahead to the surprise she had in store for Neal.

‘Right, I almost forgot’ she said with a smile. ‘But remember, it’s a secret.’

WCWCWC

‘I gotta get home’ Neal said as Peter prepared to drop him off at his car by the Federal Building.

Peter glanced at the time. ‘Me too. El hasn't been very pleased with my schedule lately.’

‘Lately?’ Neal said, facetiously. ‘When has she ever been happy about the long hours you keep at the Bureau?’

Peter shrugged off the comment, true as it was.

‘So, you’ll talk to Mozzie and I’ll see about making sure your alias is solid’ Peter said, resuming the conversation they’d just had. ‘Oh, and don't forget to run it by Sara.’

‘Hum… not sure I want to do that’ he mused. ‘It’s our anniversary this weekend - not a good time to be in the doghouse.’

‘So, what have you got planned?’ Peter asked, curious.

Neal got a twinkle in his eye. ‘I got her the best gift… and I’m taking her to Babbo for dinner. Oh, that reminds me. I need to call them back and see if they can do up a special version of their lemon semifreddo for dessert. It’s Sara’s favourite.’

‘Look at you’ Peter commented with a smile. ‘Acting like a newlywed… oh, yeah, you _are_ a newlywed.’

Neal shook his head unamused as Peter continued. ‘I can’t wait to see what you’ll be like when you’ve been married for almost twenty years like El and me. Bet you won’t even remember your anniversary.’

‘Peter, Peter’ Neal said with a tsk. ‘It’s all about love and romance… and passion. It doesn't have anything to do with how long you’ve been married. Boy, have you got a lot to learn!’

‘Oh, I’ve got a lot to learn?’ Peter repeated thinking back to a similar response he’d gotten from Neal back when he and Sara had begun dating.

The car came to a halt and Neal put his hand on the door handle, giving his best friend one last mischievous look.

‘Watch and learn, buddy’ he said as he stepped out of the car, gloating. ‘Watch and learn!’

WCWCWC

The next time the door to the little house on Meadowbrook Street opened, it was to welcome its master home. Neal stepped into the house, noticing the wonderful aroma of marinara sauce and spying Sara and Mozzie at the kitchen table sharing a bottle of Italian red while Hope sat between them, stuffing her face with… something.

She was the first to react to his arrival, glancing towards the front door and shrieking with joy at the sight of her beloved dad.

‘Poppa! Poppa!’ she shrieked, her mouth full.

‘Hey there, sweet pea’ Neal replied as he made it all the way into the house. He stopped to kiss his daughter who was giggling loudly and pointing to her snack on the table.

‘Look, Poppa. Fishies!’ she called out as she placed a fish cracker in her daddy’s mouth.

‘I see that. Yummy!’ he said with a grin.

‘Finally’ Sara said as she turned to welcome him home. ‘I thought we were going to have time to finish this whole bottle before you got here.’

‘Hey Mozz. Thanks for coming over’ Neal said as he sat between the two of them and leaned over to kiss his wife.

His eyes lingered on her face for a few seconds in an attempt to see how she was doing, considering he hadn't talked to her since they’d parted ways in front of Sloan-Kettering Hospital earlier in the day. Whether or not it was due to the wine she’d been imbibing, he was pleased to find mellow Sara, not the anxious Sara he’d put in a cab at lunchtime.

‘Everything okay?’ he ventured, running his hand up and down her arm.

She gave him a sweet smile. ‘I’m fine’ she answered - shorthand for _we’ll talk about it later_.

‘Something smells good’ Neal added as he stood to get himself a wineglass from the cupboard.

‘Momma make dinner’ Hope announced, rather unnecessarily.

‘Looks like she did a great job’ Neal replied with modesty as Sara rolled her eyes.

‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ Mozzie asked.

Neal took a seat once more and poured himself a glass of red, looking from his wife back to Mozzie. After a number of rookie mistakes, Neal was learning that married couples needed to be upfront with one another and never blindside each other. Before proceeding to spill the beans to Mozzie and ask for his help, he really needed to run things by Sara and get her blessing regarding his involvement in the case of the Chelsea heist.

‘Let’s eat first and I’ll fill you in later’ he suggested.

WCWCWC

It was unusual for Neal and Sara to have some alone time during waking hours so when Mozzie insisted on getting Hope ready for bed, they decided to take full advantage of the rare opportunity and take a nice long stroll through their neighbourhood.

They walked, hand in hand, waving to the odd neighbour here and there as they made their way to the local park where they slowed down and took a seat on a nearby bench, enjoying the cool early summer evening.

‘So, tell me the truth. How dangerous is this?’ Sara asked, her eyes narrowing.

Neal shrugged, as always, downplaying the danger involved in the undercover assignment.

‘Honey, I’m not even sure I’m in’ he explained patiently. ‘I can try to offer up Nick’s services but there’s no guarantee the guy will take me up on it.’

‘But if he does… Neal, is this guy dangerous?’

‘Define ‘dangerous’ he attempted before smiling coyly in the hopes of bringing her around. ‘Honestly, I don’t know babe, but I trust Peter to back me up.’

Sara nodded in understanding. She’d been there many times before, watching Neal throw caution to the wind and go undercover for the FBI. Since Hope’s arrival, though, they’d made a pact that they would discuss it before Neal took any undercover assignments and he’d lived up to his commitment ever since. 

He ran his hand down her cheek, angling her face so she didn't have a choice but to look at him. ‘Look at me, I promise to be careful, okay?’

‘Okay’ she said soberly.

‘So…’ he asked, not letting her eyes escape his scrutiny. ‘How are _you_ doing, really?’

‘Better’ she said with a soft smile. ‘Sorry I left you high and dry this morning. I know you were just trying to be supportive.’

‘It’s okay. I shouldn't have pushed, I know you need time to let things percolate.’

Sara nodded and turned to face him. ‘Neal, I don’t want to do chemo again… not yet’ she blurted out, her voice uneven.

Neal listened intently as she spoke.

‘I just… I don’t think my body can take it and frankly, just the thought of it…’

‘I get it, it’s all right. Whatever you want to do Sara, I’m behind you one hundred percent.’

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she swallowed, hoping to keep them from escaping down her cheeks.

‘You know, I just want to live my live, concentrate on Hope, on work… on us…’

Neal let his hand slip down to her shoulder and began lazily running his hand in imaginary circles on her soft skin. ‘… and on our anniversary’ he added longingly.

‘Speaking of which…’ Sara said, shaking off the nostalgia. ‘I made reservations for dinner for Saturday night.’

‘What? Oh, no! So did I!’ Neal said with a wide grin.

‘You’re kidding? For Saturday?’

‘Yup’ he said as they both broke out in laughter.

‘Where?’ 

‘What about you?’ Neal asked, wagging his eyebrows.

‘You first’ she countered as she playfully slapped his arm.

‘I’m not telling you if you don't tell me’ he teased, touching the tip of her nose.

Sara gave him a wary look. ‘Okay, okay. How about we say it together, on the count of three. No cheating!'

Neal shrugged. ‘Okay… but my place is better than your place, that’s for sure’ he argued good-naturedly.

Sara laughed heartily. ‘No way!’

‘All right, one… two… three…’

‘Babbo!’ they both declared with aplomb as they broke out in spontaneous laughter.

‘Oh, my god. I think we know each other _too_ well’ Sara declared, eyes glowing with anticipation.

Neal gazed fondly at his wife, smiling back at him without restraint, her eyes, sparkling and animated. He loved her like this - relaxed and carefree, briefly forgetting her troubles. This was the Sara he’d fallen in love with, the woman who teased him mercilessly, who knew him inside and out and who continued to capture his heart and his imagination. She was beautiful, witty, warm and sexy and he was momentarily overcome with emotion. Instead of speaking, he chose to lean in and place a soft, lingering kiss on her lips as she responded in kind.

‘It’s going to be a wonderful evening, I promise’ Neal said, suddenly serious.

Sara’s eyes sparkled at the thought and Neal decided there and then that he'd do whatever it took to keep that twinkle alive. 

WCWCWC

By the time they got home, the house was quiet except for the sound of Mozzie snickering from the family room. Neal gave Sara a knowing glance as they moved to the back of the house, finding Mozzie, sprawled out on the couch with a glass of red wine in his hand.

‘Beverly Hillbillies?’ Neal asked, having recognized the theme song to one of Moz’s all-time favourites.

‘That Jethro is a hoot!’ Mozzie replied with an irrepressible giggle.

‘So, Hope went down all right?’ Sara asked.

‘Perfect little angel’ Mozzie replied, eyes still glued to the screen.

Sara turned to look at Neal, trying to suppress a yawn. ‘Well, I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to turn in’ she said, placing a peck on his cheek and walking away. ‘Night, Mozzie.’

‘I’ll be up soon’ Neal said, taking a seat next to his old friend on the couch.

He glanced at the television screen. ’So, do you think I can pull you away from Granny and Elly May for a minute?’ he asked as Mozzie reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

‘So, what’s up?’ he asked, curious.

‘Are you still on speaking terms with Jimmy the Greek?’ Neal asked cryptically.

‘Yeah, sure. He doesn't know he’s on my grudge list, so… I see him every day when I drop in at the Clock Tower for my daily drink.’

Neal gave his friend an eye roll. The day Mozzie restrained his consumption of alcohol to one drink would be the day he’d see pretty pink hogs floating over his house.

‘I think he’s working with this guy who works with Scott’ Neal began.

‘You _think_?’

‘I know.’ Neal corrected. ‘This guy is preparing to hit a gallery in Chelsea and Jimmy is working with him somehow.’

‘The _State of the Art_ exhibit?’ Mozzie asked breathlessly. ‘ _That’s_ what they’re hitting?’

Contrary to Peter’s reaction to Neal’s limitless knowledge of everything ‘art’, Neal wasn't the least bit surprised that Mozzie had heard all about it.

‘That’s what it looks like’ Neal confirmed.

‘Well, if that’s the case, Jimmy is probably fencing something for them. I can’t see him working the actual heist’ he said, rolling his eyes.

Neal concurred that Jimmy wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed but he did have a pristine reputation as a class A fence.

‘Can you chat him up? Find out if they need anybody else on their crew. Let is slip that Nick Halden is available to work on the security system if they need anyone.’

‘You’re going undercover for Peter?’ Mozzie asked, growing ever more excited. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved living vicariously through Neal’s adventures with the Bureau.

‘If they need me… yeah’ Neal said simply.

Mozzie stood to leave, hopping from one foot to the other, barely containing his glee.

‘I’ll let you know’ he said.

WCWCWC

Scott settled on his bed, textbook on his lap as he prepared to review in preparation for the next day’s class. He was having trouble concentrating in light of the little exchange he'd had with his boss outside the office that afternoon. He knew he was on thin ice and more than ever, he feared for his job. He wasn't sure how he would avoid living on the streets if he lost his income. He'd have to quit school and try to find another job - and the chances of that were slim if he couldn't even get a reference.

The only silver lining to his horrible day had been a text from Moira, asking if he was free to meet up for coffee before class the next day, an invitation he'd accepted with unbridled enthusiasm. He'd been attracted to the redhead since the day he’d first seen her. Her comments in class were always insightful and well-thought out and she radiated confidence in the way she carried herself - to say nothing of the fact that she had beautiful eyes and a radiant smile. He wondered in passing at what point one should confess to having spent time in the slammer when one started seeing someone - should he come clean right from the start so she would know what she was getting into or wait and see if the relationship was going anywhere?

His musings were interrupted by a commotion on the first floor of the house and he got up from the bed and made his way to his bedroom door to see what all the ruckus was all about. He heard loud voices and the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.

‘NYPD’ a voice shouted out. ‘Scott Rivers, come out with your hands up.’

WCWCWC

Neal tiptoed into the bedroom, noting that Sara was already fast asleep despite the fact it wasn't even eleven o’clock and the bedside lamp was still glowing next to her. She hadn't slept well the previous night and with all the emotions surrounding her visit to Dr. Patel’s office, it wasn't surprising that she would conk out early. He sat on the edge of the bed and cautiously removed the book which sat open on her lap, her hand still clinging to the edge of a page - as if she’d been about to turn it. He silently placed the book on the bedside table and ran his hand through her hair, watching her sigh in response to his gentle touch.

He was looking forward to having a little respite from all the drama and spending some quality time with his wife for their anniversary. In some ways, it seemed like just yesterday she'd stepped off the staircase at June’s looking incredibly beautiful in her wedding dress, her bright eyes riveted on him. And yet, so much had happened in the past two years - moving out of June’s, settling into the suburbs, watching Hope go from a delicate newborn to a strong and independent two-year-old…. and, of course, Sara’s illness which had dominated the past year of their lives. He looked forward to less stressful times ahead as they continued on this wonderful journey called marriage.

He leaned down and deposited a soft kiss on her forehead before standing and making his way to his side of the bed. He’d just sat down and taken his shoes off when the phone rang, its sound shrill and unexpected in the quiet house.

‘Hello?’ he said softly, hoping Sara’s sleep wouldn't be disturbed. She stirred and turned in bed to look at him, watching his face go from relaxed to tense and finally, ashen.

‘All right, all right, calm down. I’ll be right there’ she heard him say as she sat up in bed.

He leaned down and proceeded to slip his feet back into his shoes.

‘What? What is it?’ she asked sleepily.

‘It’s Scott. He’s just been arrested.’

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

‘Neal, I swear I didn't do it’ Scott repeated for the second time.

‘Breathe, Scott, breathe’ Neal said as he sat across from him in the small, sterile room. ‘Just start at the beginning and don't leave anything out.’

The young man before him looked totally defeated but more importantly, it was becoming painfully obvious to Neal that he’d been completely blindsided by the turn of events. Neal could spot a con a mile away and he could tell the moment he’d seen Scott’s face that he’d likely been framed - and it was probably connected to the criminal activities of one Jerome Goldberg. 

Although he’d been bailed out of jail more times than he cared to remember, Neal had never had the dubious honour of having to bail someone out himself and he’d headed to the Bushwick police precinct with trepidation. To be honest, he wasn't even sure how the whole process worked so despite the late hour, he’d called Peter to get his advice. His best friend had moaned and groaned at first, unsure about Scott’s innocence but it had taken just a few arguments to convince Peter that they needed to hear Scott out and figure out what had really happened.

While Peter was busy flashing his FBI badge and pulling some strings to have the young man released, Neal had been shown into a tiny interrogation room before Scott had been brought in, looking like death warmed over.

‘I told you, I was home studying and the police stormed in and said something about me violating my parole conditions and they started searching my room.’

‘Did they trash it?’

‘No, they seemed to know there would be drugs in my jacket pocket. I’d thrown it on a chair when I came home and they went straight for it and on the inside pocket, they found two small bags of coke. I swear Neal, I have no idea where they came from or how they got there. I’ve _never_ done drugs in my life and I have no interest in starting now.’

Neal flashed back to the bags he'd found in Goldberg’s safe; perhaps the man feared Scott was becoming a threat and had planted the drugs on him to get him out of the way. Firing him wouldn't be enough to keep him quiet but knowing, as he did, that Scott was on parole, it would be easy to cast aspersions on the young man’s honesty and get him out of the way more permanently.

‘Did anything happen at work today that might make your boss uneasy to have you around?’ Neal asked.

Scott’s eyes dropped as he squirmed on his chair.

‘What is it, Scott?’ Neal asked. ‘Don’t hold out on me now, kid.’

‘I know you told me to stay out of it but… well, I did some snooping around and Michael caught me trying to listen in on a conversation he was having with one of those characters that come into the store.’

Neal sighed. Hopefully, Scott’s curiosity wasn't going to be his downfall and land him right back in prison.

There was a soft knock on the door and Peter poked his head into the small, utilitarian room. ‘Neal, it’s all set if you still want to post bail.’

Neal nodded and stood. ‘Stay put, I’ll be right back’ he said to Scott - as if there was anywhere he could go.

Peter stepped in and took the chair vacated by Neal, staring into the young man’s eyes. He was pretty good himself at ferreting out cons but he could see how shellshocked poor Scott Rivers was, sitting there with his head hanging down.

‘Did you do it, kid? Did you buy those drugs? Or steal them?’ he asked, plainly.

‘No’ Scott responded without hesitation.

‘You know, Neal’s going out on a limb for you here. Not only is he taking responsibility for you, he’s forking out a lot of cash to get you out of here.’

‘I know’ Scott said softly.

‘If I find out you’re playing us… I’ll drag your sorry ass back to jail myself’ Peter announced - mostly for effect. If the young man _was_ lying, he might be able to scare him into telling the truth.

Scott’s eyes rose to look at the older man. ‘I didn’t do it’ he pronounced solemnly.

WCWCWC

Neal stood before the sergeant’s desk, feeling uneasy about being in the bowels of a police station. He’d had his fair share of being booked and processed over the years and frankly, he was getting the heebie jeebies just being there. Any minute, he feared someone might appear, brandishing a pair of handcuffs with his name on them, and whisk him away to a nearby holding cell - an irrational yet all too vivid fear.

Instead, he heard a female voice cooing from behind.

‘Hi sweetheart’ he heard as he glanced over, noticing a couple of ladies of the night sitting there, waiting to be processed.

‘Are you looking for a little bit of company tonight, baby?’ the hard on her luck young woman called out. ‘Cause I’ll be out of here in a couple of hours.’

‘Keep your pants on, Doreen’ the sergeant behind the desk said impatiently as Neal rolled his eyes - regulars, he surmised.

‘Aww, come on Sarge’ the second woman moaned provocatively. ‘He’s a cute one… we don't get that many cute ones.’

Neal gave a small smile and returned to the business at hand, pulling out the credit card he was about to max out for a young waif who could still do a runner and leave him holding the bag. Sara would be none too pleased to know he’d put down close to $10,000 towards the ‘save Scott Rivers fund’ without consulting her first but, under the circumstances, there wasn't much else he could do if he didn't want poor Scott to rot behind bars for the foreseeable future. His mind flashed back to the horrendous few days he’d spent in jail after Kate’s plane had blown up. Despite Peter’s efforts to get him released, he’d had to suffer a couple of interminable days and long, lonely nights in an orange jumpsuit, left alone to deal with his crushing grief. He didn't wish that on his worst enemy.

He felt partly responsible for the mess Scott was in; perhaps if Neal hadn't gotten involved, the young man wouldn't have felt compelled to snoop around to help him.

‘Here you go’ the man behind the desk said as he handed him a sheet of paper. ‘Remember, you’re responsible for him and for getting him to his court date. The time and place is on there.’ he explained, pointing to the document in Neal’s hand.

Neal nodded and turned to go collect his protégé.

‘Last chance, sailor’ one of the two women called out with a suggestive wink as they both stared at him lustfully.

‘Have a good night ladies’ Neal said with a shy smile as he returned to join Scott and Peter.

WCWCWC

‘I’m sorry’ Scott said - again.

‘Stop apologizing’ Neal replied, eyes riveted on the road ahead. ‘It wasn't your fault. This guy’s nasty and he obviously feels threatened having you around.’

‘Neal?’ Scott began, his voice shaky. ‘Do you think I’m going back to jail?’

It would be nice to reassure the young man but Neal knew better than anyone how society perceived criminals and how easy it was to pin something on an ex-con once his reputation was already tarnished. 

‘I don't know, Scott. We’ll have to talk to your parole officer and see what he has to say.’

Scott continued to look dejected, his shoulders slumped forward and his head hanging down.

‘But Peter and I are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen’ Neal added, trying to throw him a lifeline without outright lying to the kid. ‘In the meantime, you can stay with us, okay?’

‘At your place?'

‘Yeah, I don't think you should be alone’ Neal said.

‘Are you sure Sara won’t mind’ asked Scott. He knew that Neal’s wife had a strong, independent spirit and that she didn't suffer fools - or criminals - gladly.

‘Don’t worry about Sara’ Neal said reassuringly. ‘You just concentrate on your classes for now and stay out of trouble. Peter and I will get to the bottom of it and get you out of this mess.’

‘Thanks’ Scott murmured, his voice shaky.

Neal glanced over at the young man, sitting next to him, sensing his despair. He reached out to touch his arm. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

WCWCWC

Despite the late hour, the lights in the house were still on when the two men arrived on Meadowbrook Street. Neal had given Sara a heads up about the events that had transpired and he knew she would be anxious for them to get back.

Sure enough, she was finishing up making the hide-a-bed in the family room when they arrived and Neal couldn't help but notice how tired she looked.

‘Hey’ he said as she greeted him with a kiss.

‘Are you all right, Scott?’ she asked as she smiled kindly at him - not what he’d expected, considering the circumstances.

He nodded. ‘Thanks so much for letting me stay here’ he murmured, suddenly shy. ‘I promise I won’t be any trouble.’

‘Here are some towels’ she explained, setting them down on the bed. ‘You know where the washroom is. Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you a sandwich?’

Scott looked up, seemingly bashful. ‘No ma’am’ he answered politely.

Neal looked at his wife and smiled; sometimes, she still surprised him with the warmth and kindness she often chose to hide under her tough exterior.

‘Get some sleep, okay’ he said to Scott. ‘And try not to worry. Peter and I will find a way to get you out this mess.’

‘You’re not alone, Scott’ Sara added as she touched the young man’s arm and gently squeezed.

Once the couple had retreated upstairs, Scott made a quick trip to the washroom and slipped under the blankets onto the warm, comforting bed. He was scared shitless yet he chose to hang on to Neal’s reassuring words before slipping into an uneasy sleep.

WCWCWC

‘You did what?’ Sara said, her voice shrill.

‘Shhhh! He’ll hear you!’ Neal admonished as Sara settled back down on her pillow.

‘Neal, that’s an awful lot of money’ she argued.

‘Honey, what choice did I have? I couldn't let him rot in that place’ Neal said - or rather, whined. ‘Besides, we’ll get it back after he goes to court.’

‘And you’re sure he didn't do it?’ she asked.

‘Positive’ Neal said as Sara scowled.

They certainly weren’t destitute; they lived a good life mainly due to Sara’s well-paying job at Sterling Bosch. But they were careful with their money now that Neal had divested himself of most of his ill-gotten profits and they endeavoured to live a fairly frugal life, choosing to set money aside for Hope’s university and Neal’s pipe dream of owning his own gallery someday.

‘Look’ he continued. ‘Drugs have never been Scott’s thing and… I knew the moment I looked into his eyes… he’s telling the truth, Sara. This is all Goldberg’s doing, I’m sure of it and if we can bring him down, we can build a case to prove that Scott was innocent.’

Sara’s face softened; she remembered all too well that Neal had been framed on a couple of occasions himself - most notably in the days preceding their wedding - and she remembered how grateful she was that Neal had people who believed in him and had found a way to exonerate him. Scott needed people in his corner and if Neal believed in his innocence well, then so did she.

‘All right’ she conceded. ‘But you’re still buying me dinner Saturday night, Caffrey.’

Neal smirked and leaned in to kiss her forehead. ‘I am _so_ buying you dinner Saturday night.’

WCWCWC

By noon the next day, Neal had gotten word from Mozzie that, according to Jimmy the Greek, the whole operation was on the verge of collapsing and that Goldberg was badly in need of someone who could help with the heist at the Nicole Stinson Gallery. Jimmy, whose job was to arrange to fence a few of the items they were set to acquire, was more than happy to intervene and inform Goldberg that Nick Halden, famous forger and art thief, was available to lend a hand. Hell, Jimmy would even vouch for Halden and take all the credit for digging him up - anything so he didn't miss out on the hefty commission he was poised to make.

Mozzie agreed to act as go-between and he informed Neal he was waiting for the inevitable call, summoning Nick to a meeting with Goldberg.

Neal remained on pins and needles all day as he and Scott kept Hope occupied, first by taking her to the park then by heading up to Neal’s studio once she’d settled down for her nap.

‘Wow! This is amazing!’ Scott exclaimed when he first stepped into the third bedroom which had been converted into Neal’s very own art studio.

‘You painted all these?’ he asked as he walked around the room, admiring Neal’s handiwork, some displayed on the walls, others stacked up against the wall on the floor.

‘Yeah… well, I have a lot of time when Hope’s napping and stuff’ Neal said, shrugging modestly.

‘And she loves coming in here’ he added as he pointed to a small easel set up with all kinds of crayons and paints so Hope could develop her own burgeoning interests and talent.

’This stuff is amazing’ the young man said, noticing that most of the art was of Hope herself in different poses with a healthy dose of Sara thrown in for good measure.

‘What’s this?’ he asked as he glanced at the easel which held a stretched out piece of material Neal had been in the midst of painting with bright, warm colours.

‘That’s part of my anniversary gift for Sara’ he answered with a wistful smile on his lips. ‘I’ve got to find a way to get it done by Saturday; I’m taking her out to dinner and I want to give it to her then.’

Scott studied the look of pure adulation on Neal’s face - the same one he’d noticed when he’d visited the previous week. The guy had it bad… and it looked good on him. Scott had a fleeting thought for Moira, remembering his upcoming date, scheduled for that afternoon, and he got a goofy smile on his face as well. Nothing escaped Neal Caffrey’s scrutiny and when his eyes turned to look at Scott, he immediately noticed the silly grin on the young man’s face.

‘What are you smiling about?’ he asked, simply.

‘Nothing… well, I met this girl at the university and… actually I’m supposed to meet her for coffee today before we head off to class.’

‘Well? What are you waiting for, you should go get ready.’

‘I don’t know, Neal. I’m not sure she bargained for dating a guy who’s served time and is on the verge of being hauled back to the slammer.’

‘Come on, go. It’ll do you good to get out of here and do something fun.’

Scott’s face darkened. ‘I feel like I’ll never be able to have a normal life… now that I’ve done time.’

Neal shook his head. ‘That’s ridiculous. Look at me. Who would have thought someone as strong and amazing as Sara would ever want to share her life with an ex-con? When we first got together, it was casual, neither one of us thought it could ever be anything more but… life is funny that way. The more I got to know her… well, the more I got to know myself and after a while, I couldn't imagine living my life without her - and apparently, she felt the same way.’

Scott frowned, not quite understanding.

‘Let’s just say it took a while for the two of us to figure things out’ Neal admitted. ‘Give yourself a chance… just, don't close that door. Trust me, you never know where it might lead.’

Scott seemed to hesitate and Neal took a seat on the stool facing the easel.

‘Should I tell her? I mean, about my past?’ Scott asked, tentative.

Neal took a moment to mull it over. That was definitely a tough one. He remembered how he’d hesitated about dating anyone while he was on anklet, not keen on having to explain the permanent piece of jewelry gracing his ankle. Barring a few brief liaisons, his two main relationships had been with Kate and Sara, both of whom knew all about his sordid past when they’d first become involved with him.

‘I don’t know… that really depends on the girl, I guess. You might want to give it just a bit of time, see where the relationship is going… but I wouldn't leave it too long. I’ve learned that honesty is the best policy when it comes to women - although it took me an awful long time to figure that one out.’

Scott’s eyes narrowed.

‘Look, for now, just go out and get to know this girl. Don't second guess yourself. You need something good in your life right now and if she makes you smile… well, my advice is to go out and get to know her better’ Neal said.

Scott’s frown turned to a smile. ‘So… it’s okay if I leave the house?’

‘Sure, I trust you Scott. Just come back after class and we’ll have dinner on the table’ Neal said with a smile.

‘Thanks!’ And just like that, Scott disappeared with a spring in his step.

WCWCWC

By mid-afternoon, an excited Mozzie came out to White Plains in person to deliver the news: Goldberg had been thrilled to get a line on a possible new addition to his crew. He wanted to meet with Nick and see if they could work something out. He’d asked for a meeting the next morning and Neal deduced the man wanted to take some time to properly check out Nick Halden before meeting him and getting involved with him.

Anybody with an internet connection could trace back the ex-con’s activities over the last few years, compliments of the FBI’s savvy tech department. Neal did a cursory check himself, noting several articles outlining Nick Halden’s exploits and a recent release date from prison. Hopefully, it was enough of a cover to convince Goldberg to trust him - at least for as long as it took to carry out this heist.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

‘So when are you meeting him?’ Peter asked, phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder.

‘Tomorrow morning at 11:30 at a bar in the Bronx’ Neal answered as he stood barefoot in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a paint splattered undershirt and old chinos.

He’d spent most of the afternoon in his studio with only Hope for company and he’d come up for air just in time to get dinner started. He blew on the contents of the wooden spoon and took a taste, grabbing for the oregano and adding a few extra shakes to his sauce.

‘Moz says the guy’s desperate to find someone to handle the security system at the museum’ he added.

‘Why would he be looking for someone at this late date?’ Peter asked, mostly to himself. ‘It seems strange, don't you think?’

Neal took another taste and set down the spice. ’According to Jimmy, the guy Goldberg had lined up for the job dropped out at the last minute.’

‘Sounds fishy to me’ Peter remarked.

He hoped Neal’s safety wasn't being compromised by sending him undercover on this case.So much could go wrong during any given operation and Neal had been at risk of getting hurt so many times in the past that Peter had stopped counting.

‘Look, maybe he’s put in a lot of time and energy preparing for this job and he doesn't want to walk away without giving it one last chance’ Neal reasoned as he continued to hover over the stove, stirring the bolognese sauce.

‘I don’t know, Neal…’ Peter said, sounding unsure. ‘Why don’t you stop by the Bureau before you meet with him and we’ll set you up with a listening device, just to be on the safe side.’

‘Sure…’ Neal said, unconvinced. He glanced over at Hope who was happily playing in the family room nearby. ‘It just seems like overkill… this guy’s not going to do anything in broad daylight.’

There was silence on the other end of the line.

‘Look, it’s an in, Peter. If it doesn't feel right, I’ll back off’ Neal added in the hopes of reassuring his best friend.

‘All right. We’ll be listening.’

‘I’ll call you when I’m done’ Neal promised as Hope came sprinting towards him from the family room. ‘Look, I gotta go. Sara’ll be home any minute.’

‘Be careful’ Peter said before hanging up.

‘Poppa, poppa!’ Hope called out, barreling towards him like a careening, out of control Mack truck. Her arms opened wide and she wrapped them around Neal’s legs with an overabundance of enthusiasm, squeezing tight. Neal reacted by grabbing on to the edge of the kitchen counter to keep from losing his balance as she practically ran him over.

‘Hello my little buttercup!’ Neal cooed breathlessly as he scooped her up into his arms and settled her on his hip.

‘Careful, careful that’s hot’ he warned as she reached tentatively for the pot on the stove.

‘Hot!’ she repeated, her eyes narrowing. ‘Poppa say bery, bery, bery hot!’

‘That’s right. It’s very, very hot and if you touch it you’ll get a big bobo!’ Neal concurred with a nod. ‘And Daddy would be very, very sad and he would cry.’

He gave her an exaggerated pout, wiping fake tears and for a moment, he could tell she wasn't sure if he was pretending or not. Hope pulled away to look at his face, sensing the playfulness in his eyes and she giggled, grabbing his nose and pulling gently, shorthand for _I love you_.

‘Hope no touch’ she promised. 

‘That’s my girl!’ Neal grinned as he proceeded to lift up her t-shirt, bringing his mouth to her round belly and blowing a series of loud raspberries.

‘I love you, I love you, I love you’ he repeated over the sound of her heartfelt laughter ‘…more than the stars and the moon!’

‘Moon!’ she repeated as he tickled her, setting off another flurry of giggles.

He stepped away from the stove and held her tightly against his chest. He couldn't get enough of his little princess, couldn't get enough of her warm smile, her spontaneous giggles, her bright, inquisitive eyes. Her mere presence was a daily reminder of what was most important in his life and he held her close as she momentarily melted in his warm embrace. Like any good two-year old worth her salt, Hope was unable to stop fidgeting for very long and she pulled away to look into his eyes.

‘Ayplane!’ she clamoured, her arms already out by her side.

‘Airplane? You want to play airplane?’ Neal asked as he lifted her up over his head and began to run around the kitchen to the happy sounds of Hope’s shrieks. Her gleeful screams blended with Neal’s exuberant laughter and the make believe sound of a plane as the two of them forgot time and space for a brief moment.

They were interrupted by the front door opening and the two of them glanced up to see Scott standing there. Hope let out one last shriek and Neal set her down, watching her race to the door to greet the newcomer.

‘Cott! Cott! Cott!’ she squealed with joy and she bounced up and down, a pure bundle of energy.

‘Hope! Hope! Hope!’ he echoed, imitating her movements as he bopped around, to her absolute delight.

‘Poppa, ayplane!’ she enthused, her face alight with joy.

‘Oh yeah?’ he replied, not sure _what_ she’d said - considering he wasn't very fluent in ‘toddler speak’.

‘It smells great in here’ Scott commented as he got closer to the kitchen. ‘What’s for dinner… Dad?’ he said with a wide grin.

Neal responded with a matching smile. He could think of worse things in life than having a son like Scott Rivers. God willing, he would have a son of his own someday.

‘ _We_ are having spaghetti and meat sauce’ Neal enunciated as he returned to the stove, intent on finishing up the preparations before his wife got home.

‘Is this your usual get-up for cooking’ Scott teased as he looked Neal up and down. ‘Is this some sort of weird fetish of Sara’s or something?’

Neal shook his head and grabbed for the shirt that was draped over the back of the kitchen chair, pulling off his undershirt and replacing it with the clean shirt.

‘No, smart ass, I was working in the studio’ he explained. ‘You want to give me a hand setting the table?’

‘Hope help!’ the toddler shouted, hopping up and down.

‘ _You_ , missy, need to go pipi before Mommy gets home’ Neal reminded her, reaching out to take her hand.

‘I can take her’ Scott said as he led the way to the powder room by the front of the house.

‘And then…’ he added, turning to look at Hope ‘…you and I can set the table together.’

Neal watched them walk away and his face grew serious. Hopefully, this undercover operation would end successfully with Jerome Goldberg behind bars and Scott Rivers a free man.

WCWCWC

Friday promised to be a glorious early summer day in New York complete with a warm breeze and clear skies. Neal had been awake since before dawn, thanks to the chirping birds warbling right outside his and Sara’s bedroom window - and the persistent hammering of the noisy woodpecker who had recently taken up residence in the neighbour’s yard. Most mornings, Hope’s boisterous arrival in their bedroom heralded the start of their day but on this particular morning, Neal had a lot on his mind and sleep had been elusive.

He pondered Scott’s precarious situation. For all the reassurances he’d given the young man, he was still unsure how he and Peter would go about proving Scott’s innocence. Goldberg must have perceived the young man as some sort of imminent threat and decided to use the kid’s vulnerabilities against him. But Scott’s status as an ex-con would make it difficult to prove he'd been nothing but an innocent by-stander. Perhaps Peter would come along with him to meet with Scott’s parole officer and see what could be done to get him out of this mess. 

Neal glanced over at Sara, still blissfully asleep. He thought of the gun he’d spotted in Goldberg’s safe. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the wonderful life he and Sara shared and he curled up behind her, arms snaking around her waist and his face buried in her hair.

She stirred to his touch. ‘Is it six yet?’ she moaned, voice sleepy.

‘Not yet, babe’ Neal murmured softly. ‘Go back to sleep.’

He felt her instantly relax against his body and he heard her snort loudly before slipping back to sleep. He caressed her left hand, feeling her wedding ring under his touch and he flashed back to the day he’d slipped the diamond and emerald ring on her finger, two short years earlier. Marriage truly was an adventure with countless twists and turns and his life with Sara and Hope had left him fulfilled in ways he’d never dreamed possible. He wanted nothing more than to continue on this wonderful journey with his beautiful wife and daughter - and if the planets were aligned, maybe a couple more Ellis-Caffrey babies.

He pulled away, landing on his back and he brought his own hand up in the semi-dark room to stare at his plain gold wedding band. As foreign as it had felt in the months following their wedding, it was now part of who he was, a symbol of Sara’s commitment to him and of his undying love for her. He slipped it off and placed it on the bedside table for safekeeping in preparation for his meeting with Goldberg and he returned to his troublesome thoughts.

WCWCWC

The Rocking Horse was a little hole-in-the-wall in a rather seedy neighbourhood in South Bronx. Neal made his way there, clad in dark jeans and a light black jacket, his hair slicked back, arriving just as he’d planned, three minutes after the agreed upon meeting time. In his experience, it wouldn't do to keep someone waiting more than a few minutes and yet, he never wanted to appear overeager when he was ‘auditioning’ for a job.

Upon arrival, Neal let his eyes roam the place, searching for Michael Pearson aka Jerome Goldberg. Despite the early hour, he spotted him nursing a glass of amber liquid in a nearby booth. Neal hung back at the bar; it wouldn't do to let the guy know he recognized him. Apparently, the same couldn't be said for Goldberg who must have checked Nick Halden’s picture online. He gave Neal a head nod, inviting him to join him at his table.

‘Halden’ he said as Neal slipped in across from him. ‘Jimmy tells me you might be interested in doing a small job for me’ he said, skipping the preliminaries and going straight to the heart of the matter.

‘That depends…’ Neal replied with confidence. ‘What are we talking about, exactly? You know, I don't come cheap’ he couldn't help but add, brazenly.

This was a Bureau sanctioned operation and Neal wouldn't be seeing a red cent from any eventual arrangement with the thief, but nevertheless, he was proud of his very unique skills and he wasn't about to prostitute himself for less than he was worth, no matter what the circumstances. After all, he had his pride.

Goldberg laughed, a twisted sardonic laugh and looked Neal up and down. ‘You’re all that, are you, Halden?’

‘Let’s just say my skills are very specialized and I _do_ have my reputation to think of’ Neal said with just a touch of arrogance - a characteristic he shared with Nick Halden.

The man nodded. If Nick Halden was half as good as he’d been led to believe, he was definitely the man for the job. Goldberg pulled out the plans for the electrical system of the Nicole Stinson Gallery and pointed to the area where the security system was located.

‘Its a Lorus 848’ he declared, studying Neal’s face carefully.

Neal let out a quiet whistle. ‘Wow! Those have only been on the market for a few months’ he declared.

‘Are you saying you can’t do this?’ the man asked, leaning in.

‘I’m saying they’ve only been on the market for a few months…’ Neal repeated, staring the man down. ‘I can do it…. but it’s going to cost you.’

Goldberg’s eyebrows rose, skeptical; was this guy scamming him?

Neal stared back, taunting the other man. ‘Look, if you have someone else you think could do this…’

Goldberg remained cool but Neal wasn't fooled; he could see the barely disguised look of panic in his eyes. He’d probably been planning this heist for months and now, he’d been left high and dry with days to go before the exhibit, leaving him scrambling. Neal could pretty well name his price and the guy would come running. The thought gave him a twisted sense of power and satisfaction.

‘So, why don't you give me a few details on this job of yours. What’s your target?’

‘All in good time’ the man said. ‘… _if_ we can come to an agreement.’

Neal studied his face as the man continued. ‘I’m prepared to offer you twenty-five big ones.’

Neal scoffed loudly and pretended to get to his feet. Considering the man stood to rake in a fortune, his offer was a mere pittance and that fact did not escape Nick Halden.

Goldberg laughed. ‘All right, all right. Halden’ he said. ‘Thirty.’

Neal shook his head and slowly got to his feet.

‘Look, I don't need this grief’ he bragged. ‘Until you tell me what the job is and the prep work you’ve done, I’m not getting involved. And just so you know, I wouldn't touch a Lorus 848 for anything less than fifty.’

WCWCWC

Peter pushed his chair back and stood from the conference room table at the White Collar offices, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as Jones and Diana Berrigan sat and watched their boss’ blood pressure rise.

‘What the hell is he doing?’ Peter shouted as he began to pace the room. 'He's gonna blow the whole thing out of the water.' 

Diana laughed softly; she had to admit, Caffrey was something else. The ex-con had a way of driving Peter crazy and making things more complicated than they needed to be. Of course, there was always a method to his madness but still… Neal’s unorthodox methods drove his ex-handler around the bend every single time.

‘He’s jeopardizing his chances of getting the job’ Peter griped at the inanimate listening device sitting on the conference room table.

‘Peter’ Diana attempted, ‘Caffrey is just maintaining cover. He knows this guy is trying to screw him over and he doesn't want to look like a pushover, that’s all.’

Peter shook his head in desperation once more. ‘Did we forget to tell him he’s not _really_ breaking into the gallery?’ he asked rhetorically.

‘That doesn't matter to Neal’ Diana reminded him. ‘You know that.’

Jones piped up as Peter returned to his seat. ‘Caffrey lives his old life vicariously through his undercover work, you know that. Let’s just be thankful he’s on our side.’

Peter nodded and took a cleansing breath. Neal was always prepared to help - as long as it was on his terms. That would never change.

WCWCWC

‘All right. Fifty’ Goldberg agreed as Neal towered over him. ‘Now, get off your high horse and take a seat and I’ll tell you what this is all about.’

Neal gave a small self-satisfied smirk and slid back into the booth. He knew Peter was listening on the other end and that he’d probably given him a coronary with his hard ball negotiating tactics. But he had his standards and he wasn't about to do a job for less than he was worth - even if the job would never come to fruition.

WCWCWC

Neal sauntered into the White Collar offices with that annoying spring in his step. All eyes moved to look at him, dressed casually but smartly in his bad boy attire.

‘Good job, Caffrey’ Diana called out as he stopped momentarily in front of her desk.

‘What did Peter say?’ he asked playfully - although, truth be told, not disappointing Peter was always in the back of Neal Caffrey’s mind.

‘Let’s just say you almost gave him a heart attack when you started negotiating’ she admitted.

‘Know your worth, right?’ Neal said with confidence.

Peter’s voice floated down the stairs, interrupting them.

‘Hey, Halden!’ he called out. ‘Get up here.’

Neal gave an eyebrow wag to Diana before following the voice of his master and climbing up the stairs to Peter’s office. Just like the old days, he sat himself across from his best friend, feet instantly on his desk as Peter frowned.

‘So, was that handled to your satisfaction?’ Neal asked, with a wide grin.

‘I thought he was going to tell you to get lost there for a minute’ Peter admitted.

‘Peter, Peter… ye of little faith. I had the guy eating out of the palm of my hand’ Neal bragged. 

‘So…’ Peter continued, not wanting to feed Neal’s ego any more than necessary. ‘Now, we know we have a week to get organized, talk to the owner, get some extra security…’

‘Really?’ Neal said. ‘Peter, you’re just going to spook him. Isn't it better to let him go ahead with the plan and catch him with his hand in the cookie jar?’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘He didn't say but I got the distinct impression he’s got someone on the inside. Maybe an employee… or even the owner. If we start snooping around the gallery, he might just call the whole thing off and disappear off the grid again.’

Peter frowned; they’d met with Nicole Stinson and she seemed genuinely horrified to think that her gallery might be marked for a break-in while they were hosting such a prestigious event. His instincts had told him she’d known nothing about the imminent theft.

Peter nodded reluctantly. ‘You’re right’ he said. ‘So what's next?’

‘Like any respectable cat burglar, I’m going to study the Lorus 848 and get ready to hack into the gallery’s security system…’ Neal declared, morphing into his Nick Halden persona. ‘And then I’m going to wait for further instructions.’

Peter sighed. ‘Just let me know when he contacts you.'

Neal nodded. 'Peter, there’s one more thing’ he said, growing serious. ‘Scott and I are meeting with his parole officer in an hour and I was hoping you’d come along and try to smooth things over.’

Peter pursed his lips and stared at the growing pile of case files on his desk, clamouring for this attention. Meeting with a power hungry parole officer wasn’t at the top of his to do list, especially on a Friday afternoon before calling it quits for the weekend. He looked at Neal’s pleading eyes, unable to resist.

‘Fine’ he finally said as he got to his feet. ‘But no more surprises!’

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

‘Well, that was encouraging’ Neal commented as he and Scott headed back to White Plains.

‘It was really nice of Agent Burke to speak on my behalf’ Scott admitted. ‘He barely knows me.’

‘He wants you to succeed. I told you, he’s a great guy’ Neal said, his eyes on the road ahead. ‘Besides, you deserve our support, you didn't do anything wrong.’

‘What do you think my parole officer’s going to do?’

‘I think he’s open to talking to the court…’ Neal replied, trying to remain positive. ‘Let’s just see what happens.’

He took his eyes off the road for a moment and glanced to his right, noticing Scott sitting ramrod straight in the seat beside him, still tense from the meeting they’d just had.

‘In the meantime’ Neal continued, trying to lighten the mood. ‘You’ve got a roof over your head and food in your belly - even if you _do_ have to put up with my cooking.’

Scott seemed to relax. ‘No complaints in that department’ he noted.

‘Hey, I never asked you how it went yesterday with… sorry I’ve forgotten her name.’

‘Moira’ Scott answered as a smile returned to his face. ‘It went really well. Turns out she’s from Seattle, her whole family lives there. She’s actually a psych major, she’s taking this computer science class as an elective.’

Neal nodded as he listened. ‘You know, if you want to invite her over to the house, Sara and I would love to meet her.’

‘Yeah?’ Scott said, his smile broadening.

‘Sure. Why don't you invite her over for dinner Sunday. I’ll make something special.’

‘You’d do that?’ Scott asked.

‘Of course’ Neal answered. ‘As long as she doesn't mind sitting at the table with a two-year-old who’s still learning to use a fork.’

‘Oh, she would love Hope. She has five nieces and nephews; she actually showed me some pictures.’

Neal nodded. Amid the turmoil, it was nice to see that Scott had something good happening in his life.

‘All right then… Sunday night it is’ he repeated. ‘Now, I need a small favour in exchange… how are you at gift wrapping?’

WCWCWC

Neal lay, sprawled up against the headboard, clad in a pair of dress pants, socks and an undershirt watching Sara apply her makeup at the small table in their bedroom. She sat, wearing nothing but a lavender lace bra and panties and a pair of black stiletto heels that made her legs look like they went on forever. For the past five minutes, Neal’s eyes had been riveted on her, studying her every move.

Sara ran her fingers through her soft curls and touched up her lipstick, crossing her long legs as Neal continued to stare with his tongue practically hanging out. She glanced at his reflection in the mirror, noting the look of pure lust and desire in his eyes - the one he always got whenever she cavorted around their bedroom in her frilly undies. Truth be told, sometimes, he even got that look when she wore her everyday, _sensible_ lingerie.

‘Like what you see, Caffrey?’ she asked provocatively.

Neal didn't answer; he just kept staring, his eyes moving up and down her body appreciatively.

‘You _know_ I do, you little tease’ he finally replied, his voice rough.

He was trying his best to play it cool but she knew all too well that if she gave him even an iota of encouragement, he would be all over her in a New York minute. She wasn't about to give in to him when she’d just spent twenty minutes putting on her war paint - besides, Mozzie, Scott and Hope were downstairs and their dinner reservations were in a little over an hour.

‘You can gawk all you like, Neal. But there isn't going to be any action on that bed before we go out to dinner’ she said emphatically.

‘Can’t a guy enjoy the sight of his amazing looking wife?’ he asked rhetorically as he dragged himself to the edge of the bed, looking like he was ready to pounce. 

Sara rolled her eyes and gave herself one last appraising look in the mirror. After months of doubts as to her physical appearance, she had recently started to feel desirable again. All throughout her illness, Neal had told her repeatedly how much he loved her and how much he wanted her but Sara had felt rundown and unattractive, her body whittling away, her hair falling out, her usual exuberance muted.

She gave her husband a stern look, albeit somewhat lacking in sincerity. ‘You’d better put your eyes back in their sockets and finish getting dressed. I’m getting hungry.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ he said, getting to his feet and making his way to stand right behind her in front of the mirror.

‘So am I’ he growled, making his intentions crystal clear. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m starving…’

He ran his hands languidly up her arms, gently kneading her shoulders and slipping off her bra straps as she watched him in the mirror, suddenly disinclined to tell him to stop.

‘You said no action _on the bed_ …’ he teased. He leaned down, his lips running up and down her neck, teeth nipping at her earlobe.

‘Leave it to you to find a loophole in my very specific instructions’ she half whispered as he kept up the blissful torture.

‘You know what I always say about rules’ he murmured naughtily.

In the blink of an eye, he managed to maneuver her body so she was facing him and he placed both hands on her thighs, spreading her legs open so he could sink to his knees right in front of her. He let out a soft moan, coming face to face with Sara’s bosom as it rose and fell rapidly, her pulse increasing and her breathing growing louder.

‘Babe, you look amazing’ he whispered breathlessly, his hands running lustfully up and down her thighs.

Despite her initial rebuff, Sara was hard pressed to resist, wishing they had more time - and privacy - so she could take Neal up on his offer.

‘Neal, I’m serious’ she moaned, rather unconvincingly as she took his face in her hands, her hands moving to the back of his head to caress his thick head of hair.

‘So am I’ he murmured, staring into her bright green eyes.

He reached for one of her bra straps and slipped it further down her arm, his fingers gently lingering on it until they reached the top edge of her bra. He gave a gentle tug, releasing her breast and instantly his lips were on her, placing probing kisses and playful nips as she let out a quiet whimper.

She heard the sound of voices, floating up from the kitchen below and she came to her senses, taking Neal’s face in her hands once more and forcing him to look up at her, his blue eyes now morphing into black pools of desire.

‘Later Caffrey… I promise you can do that all night if you want to’ she said, looking into his half-lidded eyes.

‘Will you wear this to bed for me?’ he murmured, practically salivating.

‘I’ll wear anything you want me to wear… or not wear’ she promised, eyes fluttering.

He let out a long, slow breath, attempting to get himself under control and he carefully replaced the bonnet of her bra, slowly running his fingers back up to return the bra strap to her shoulder. He could have sworn he spotted a fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes as he stood and grabbed his shirt off the bed and pulled it on, eyes still on hers.

She did the same, standing and slipping into the cute little number she’d picked up at Barney’s, a simple sleeveless black dress that amplified her mommy curves. The weight she’d lost during her year from hell had finally come back - in all the right places. She’d always had an amazing figure but since Hope’s birth, she’d developed more rounded curves and Neal loved her that way. She turned her back to him, silently asking him to zip her up. She could hear his shaky breath as he finished up and placed his hands on her hips, letting his arms glide all the way around her waist, hands on her belly.

‘Mmmmm’ he murmured in her ear and she almost lost it right there and then. She summoned her inner strength and he appeared to do the same just as they heard Hope, coming up the stairs.

‘Poppa!’ she called out, her voice growing louder.

‘Later’ Neal whispered - and it almost sounded like a warning.

WCWCWC

‘Suit, that does _not_ go there!’ Mozzie whined as Peter stood next to the little man, screwdriver in hand.

‘It says screw D goes into hole F’ Peter argued, pointing to the piece of paper in his hands.

‘You can’t just stick a screw anywhere and hope for the best. That’s why they include written instructions’ he explained as patiently as he could.

‘And I’m telling you, those instruction leaflets are written by twisted individuals who take pleasure in watching people rip their hair out. They’re probably watching us through some hidden camera lens attached to the packing crate’ Mozzie said as he glared at the large cardboard box which had been discarded.

‘Does your paranoia know no bounds?’ Peter exclaimed, exhaling loudly.

‘Guys, guys, please don't fight’ Scott pleaded as he sat nearby on the Caffrey’s backyard deck holding Hope on his lap.

‘You’ll upset Hope’ he added in a loud whisper.  
  
Hope looked on, oblivious to the argument as she cradled her pink elephant in one arm and she disengaged herself from Scott, crawling into the large box with a loud giggle. She’d witnessed animated conversations between her uncle Peter and her uncle Mozzie since the day she was born; this was _nothing_ compared to some of the doozies her dad had had to referee in the past.

‘No fight!’ Hope said sternly as she popped her head out of the oversized cardboard box.

Despite her rebuke, Mozzie and Peter continued to glare at each other.

‘Look, just go with your gut, Suit, that’s what I always do’ Mozzie grunted.

‘Oh, because that’s paid off so well for you in the past’ Peter countered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mozzie gave him a look of pure annoyance; they were venturing into dangerous territory. ‘Just… just eyeball it.’

‘Eyeball it?’ Peter said, incredulous. ‘It’s a finely constructed piece of furniture not a gin and tonic.’

‘If you follow the instructions, you always end up with two leftover screws and then you have to take it apart and start all over. My way is just common sense. If it looks like two pieces fit together, they probably do’ Mozzie argued.

‘And I’m telling you that if you take things one step at a time, you’ll end up with a well constructed piece of furniture’ Peter responded just as adamantly.

Listening to Mozzie and Peter argue was driving him crazy and Scott stood and put his hand out for Hope.

‘Look, I’m going to take Hope up for her bath’ he announced. ‘Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.’

The two men stared at each other, neither willing to budge an inch.

WCWCWC

‘This place hasn't changed a bit’ Sara declared as she glanced around the high priced restaurant.

Neal’s eyes were glued to his wife’s face. She looked amazing with the candlelight dancing in her eyes and her bright, infectious smile.

‘When was the last time we were here, anyway?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure. Didn’t we come here a couple of weeks before Hope was born?’ Neal asked as he topped up her glass of wine.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s right. I was craving the grilled octopus with limoncello vinaigrette.’

‘As I recall… you skipped dessert and ordered a second serving of the same thing’ Neal laughed as he remembered their last outing to the famed restaurant.

Sara glanced down at the menu. ‘I really don't know what I was thinking… I hate octopus’ she commented with distaste as she perused the offerings.

Neal laughed again. His wife was such a study in contrasts. As serious as she could be at times, she was witty and playful and he would never tire of watching the mischief in her eyes.

‘So, what’s it going to be tonight, Repo?’ he asked.

‘I’m thinking the asparagus with quail eggs and maybe the Branzino. What about you?’

Neal hemmed and hawed. ‘Not sure… the fettuccine with pancetta looks good.’

He felt Sara’s hand on his and he looked up to find her staring back at him with a lovesick look on her face.

‘I love you, Caffrey’ she blurted out unexpectedly.

He smiled back, surprised at the sudden outpouring of emotion from his no-nonsense wife. ‘Glad to hear it… what’s brought this on?’

‘You… This crazy adventure we’re on… well, it’s more than I ever imagined it would be’ she said, slowing to catch her breath. ‘Even with all the hardships we’ve had to face this past year, it’s been amazing… because I get to wake up next to you every morning.’

Neal grinned as he listened to Sara’s words. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

‘There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here with you’ he murmured softly. ‘And I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us next year and the year after that and the year after that. I just want more of the same for another fifty years.’

The couple sat, holding hands, eyes locked on each other. They never noticed the waiter’s discreet approach and suddenly, he was speaking.

‘Have you made your choice?’ he asked.

WCWCWC

‘Wow! I can’t believe we built that!’ Mozzie exclaimed as the two men stepped back to examine their handiwork.

‘I told you, just follow the instruction sheet, step by step’ Peter said, wiping his brow, unaware of Mozzie, shaking his head in disbelief.

Scott appeared with a couple of beers, handing one to each of the two men.

‘That looks great, guys. Sara’s going to be thrilled’ he said as he settled in a patio chair and admired the finished product. ‘So, where does she want it?’

Mozzie piped up. ‘Right here on the deck, obviously’ he said as if it were a no-brainer.

‘No! That’s ridiculous. It’s too close to the house’ Peter countered. ‘Definitely in the grass!’

‘Suit, Neal’s not going to want to trek all the way to the middle of the yard to use it’ Mozzie argued.

‘If you leave it here, they’ll be tripping over it on the way out the patio door’ Peter countered.

Scott shook his head. Babysitting these two was worse than tending to Hope. He took a swig of beer and settled in to enjoy the rest of the show.

WCWCWC

The food had been amazing, the conversation stimulating and as Neal and Sara finished up their main course, the waiter returned with a couple of shots of limoncello as the couple contemplated dessert.

‘Compliments of the house’ he said as he placed the drinks in front of the couple. ‘Happy anniversary!’

Neal nodded in thanks.

‘I love this stuff’ Sara commented as she lifted her glass up in a toast.

She’d had her fill of wine and was feeling nice and mellow. Besides, sitting here with Neal, all her troubles seemed to melt away and she felt safe and happy… and loved.

Neal joined her by lifting his glass and staring into her eyes. ‘To us and many more nights like tonight’ he said as he took a sip of his after dinner drink.

Sara gazed back, stars in her eyes as he continued.

‘You know, the day we got married, my heart was… full - it was full of love, full of hope for the future… but with each passing day, I love you more.’

Sara felt her chest tighten. Neal Caffrey was the most romantic man on the face of the earth andshe was grateful she got to share her life with him. 

‘Happy anniversary Caffrey’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘All I want is a lifetime of anniversaries with you.’

‘To a lifetime of anniversaries’ Neal echoed as they clinked their glasses.

‘Oh!’ Neal remembered suddenly. ‘I still haven't given you your anniversary present.’

He reached into the bag he’d dragged into the restaurant and pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box with a large bow.

‘Wow! This is gorgeous’ Sara saidas she took in the beautiful wrapping paper which consisted of countless photographs of the two of them printed onto some craft paper. ‘Honey, this is a work of art onto itself!’

‘Scott gave me a hand’ he admitted, shrugging. ‘It’s a technique he learned in class and he printed it out for me at the university.’

‘And those are awfully crisp corners’ she added, teasing him.

Her husband had a long list of attributes but even with those magical artist’s hands, gift wrapping had never been his forte. ‘So, which poor sap did you rope into helping you wrap this?’

At any other time, Neal might have tried to bluff his way out and make her believe he'd wrapped the gift himself but he looked away shyly as he confessed.

‘Scott gave me a hand and Hope helped with the bow’ he answered thinking back to the three of them up in the studio, giggling as they struggled with wrapping the parcel.

‘Well, it’s beautiful’ she stated as she gently tugged on the ribbon and began unwrapping, careful not to rip the wrapping paper.

The inside of the box was lined with soft tissue paper in a rainbow of muted colours, pinks, magentas, blues and greens. She removed the top sheet to peer inside, curiosity getting the best of her. She knew from the get go that the romantic in Neal would dictate that he go with the traditional second year anniversary theme of cotton. She’d had a hell of a time trying to stick with the theme but Neal always came up with the most imaginative gifts. She took a moment to enjoy the anticipation before peeking inside.

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out exactly what she was looking at. It was a garment, a dress - in fine cotton, so fine it felt like silk.

‘A dress?’ she asked as she lifted it out of the box to examine it. The bodice was fitted, in an exquisite pale green and it was gathered at the waist, with a flare skirt, hand painted in the same muted colours as the tissue paper in which it was wrapped. It was beautiful, classy and elegant, but not something she would ever wear - and yet, she trusted Neal to know her taste in clothing.

‘Did you… did you paint this?’ she asked as she further examined the exquisite design on the bottom part of the skirt.

He nodded, studying the question mark in her eyes.

‘Neal… it’s beautiful’ she murmured - which it most certainly was. It just wasn't something she could see herself ever wearing to work or even out for a special occasion.

He knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘Open the envelope’ he said, pointing to the bottom of the box.

Sara reached in, her curiosity intensifying and she slipped the card out of envelope. The front of the card was a hand painted depiction of the profile of a man and a woman dancing. Their faces were not visible but the woman was wearing the exact same dress she had just unwrapped.

‘What?…’ she began as Neal smiled from across the table, waiting for her to figure out what was going on.

‘Open it’ he repeated, more excited than she was. ‘You’ve been saying you need to get out and do something physical to get your strength back… I thought this might be nice for us to do together.’

‘Ballroom dancing lessons?’ she said with a smile as she spied the gift certificate for ten lessons at a well known Manhattan dance studio.

‘And that would explain the dress…’ she began, taking the pale green dress in her hands and feeling its luxurious fabric.

‘It’s a ballroom dance dress - that’s what people wear… you know, for class’ Neal explained, hoping he hadn't been off the mark.

‘It’s beautiful’ she cooed, examining the intricate hand painted details. ‘And you painted this? In your studio?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve been spending all my free time up there while you were at work.’

‘Neal…’ she said with a fond smile. ‘This is… this is just like you, so original and … thoughtful. Dance lessons… what a great idea.’

‘And we get to do it together’ he added wistfully.

‘I love it, all of it. Thank you, honey.’

The waiter was suddenly by their side, once again breaking the mood. He held two cakes, one in each hand.

‘There seems to be some confusion as to dessert’ he admitted, depositing both cakes onto the table.

Neal and Sara looked at each other and burst out laughing as they realized they’d both ordered the other’s favourite dessert for two.

‘No confusion’ Neal said with a grin. ‘Just… tons of calories!’

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Neal Caffrey and Sara Ellis snuggled in the back seat of a yellow cab, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ear and carrying on like a couple of newlyweds - which, for all intents and purposes, they were.Their date night had been a resounding success and they were still basking in the afterglow of a delicious meal and the wonderful wine that had accompanied it.

Neal glanced at the cab driver who was listening to music through earbuds and, satisfied that they had a modicum of privacy, he turned his attention back to his wife who was curled up snugly against his relaxed body.

‘Remember what you promised me earlier…’ he whispered as his eyes fluttered shut and his lips moved in on her bare neck.

‘Oh, I remember… but first, I have to give you your anniversary gift’ she teased, eyes alight with mischief.

Neal looked disappointed for a moment. ‘I thought that _was_ my present’ he cooed.

Sara gave him a look of pure lust. ‘Don’t you worry. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed - on both counts.’

His face broke out in a wide grin, full of anticipation. ‘And you’ll wear the —’ he murmured, running his hand up her leg and giving her an eyebrow wag.

‘Whatever you want me to wear, Caffrey. I’m all yours’ she promised.

Neal let out a soft growl as his hands began to wander, prompting Sara to give him a good-natured slap on the arm in order to restrain his groping. He moaned in response and settled for taking her hand in his, suddenly aware of his naked ring finger.

‘Damn it’ he said, seemingly out of the blue. ‘I meant to grab my wedding band… today of all days.’

Sara reached for her purse, lying beside her on the car seat, and she pulled out his ring as Neal frowned in surprise. ‘I’ve been carrying it around with me since you took it off’ she confessed. ‘It makes me feel closer to you.’

‘Why, Sara Ellis’ Neal said with a look of genuine surprise. ‘I might just make a romantic out of you yet.’

He put out his hand and watched as she slipped it on his finger, just as she’d done that afternoon in June’s garden.

‘That’s better’ he said, feeling the cool gold band against his skin. ‘You know, it felt so weird when I first started wearing it and now, I feel naked without it.’

‘You know what I was thinking of?’ Sara asked. ‘I was thinking about our honeymoon at those cute little cottages in Kennebunkport… how they used to leave breakfast on our doorstep every morning…’

Neal smiled at the recollection. Although he'd still been on anklet at the time, the Bureau - with a lot of pressure from Peter - had granted him a seventy-two hour reprieve outside his two mile radius in order to take his new bride on a honeymoon getaway.

‘We always said we’d go back for our tenth wedding anniversary’ Neal mused, thinking back to the magic of those three short days.

‘Remember the night we fell asleep on the big hammock just outside the cottage. I think we scared that poor woman out of her skin when she came by to deliver breakfast that morning.’

Neal nodded and laughed out loud and the driver gave them a furtive look in the rear view mirror.

‘Why did you marry me… while I was still on the anklet?’ he asked, his face suddenly serious.

‘That’s a strange question… and about two years too late, don't you think?’ Sara replied with a frown.

Neal just stared back, waiting for an answer. ‘You’re serious?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know…’ Neal said with a shrug. ‘You could have insisted on waiting until my anklet came off but you chose to marry a guy who was still technically shackled to the correctional system. You took a chance that I would be there… for the long run.’

Sara’s hand came up to caress his cheek. ‘I never saw you that way’ she admitted. ‘From the moment I got pregnant, I knew our lives would always be intertwined somehow, I just didn't quite know how…’

Neal listened intently, the sound of her soft voice comforting, and her words, reassuring. The commitment they’d made on their wedding day had cemented their relationship and he was eternally grateful that she had taken a chance on him at a time when he was still far from settled.

‘Besides…’ she continued. ‘… anybody who’s ever seen the way you look at your daughter would know without the shadow of a doubt that you were never going to stray very far from her.’

It was true. The bond between him and Sara would always be rock solid but it was the commitment he'd made to his daughter on the day she was born that kept things real and kept him focussed when he was tempted to stray from his life on the right side of the law.

Sara fiddled with her husband’s wedding ban and she returned to the here and now and the reason Neal’s ring had been temporary removed from his finger in the first place.

‘Has your guy been in touch about when the job’s going down?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.

‘Not yet, I think that’s all part of his strategy - keeping his crew in the dark about when we’re hitting the gallery. All I know is that he needs me to bypass the security system. He’s got his fence lined up and he has a couple of guys acting as muscle but he’s really more of a lone wolf.’

‘Are you going to be able to pull it off?’ she asked.

He gave her a look of disbelief; he hadn't yet come across a security system he couldn't disarm with the right tools and a little time.

‘Seriously?’ he asked with just a touch of arrogance.

‘I noticed you were on the computer all morning studying it’ she retorted.

‘Yeah… well, it’s a new model and they keep upgrading to try to keep smart criminals like me from cracking them’ he said playfully, his arms reaching around her and pulling her closer.

‘Ex-criminals’ she corrected.

‘You know, you’ve been awfully mysterious about this anniversary gift of yours’ he continued, changing the subject. ‘Why didn't you just bring it to the restaurant?’

‘You are such a snoop. Just be patient. All will be revealed in good time.’

Neal scoffed; as much as he loved surprising his wife and lavishing her with gifts, he didn't do nearly as well on the receiving end of surprises. As a confidence man, control - self-control and control of others’ actions and reactions - was one of his main assets and not having total command of a situation still made him uneasy.

‘Is it bigger than a breadbox?’ he asked with a wicked smile.

‘Stop it!’ Sara answered with another well placed swat, on his chest this time. ‘I’m not telling you. You’ll see soon enough.’

Neal glanced surreptitiously at the cab driver once more and seeing he had his eyes resolutely on the road, he let his lips wander to Sara’s neck once again.

‘Well, then’ he said, his voice rough. ‘You’re just going to have to keep me busy until we get home.’

WCWCWC

Scott Rivers sat in the Caffrey’s family room, his phone in his hands. He’d been texting back and forth with the new woman in his life most of the evening as they finalized their plans to meet up the next day. They had settled on brunch and a stroll through Central Park but Scott was still hoping she’d agree to come over and meet Neal and Sara. He decided asking her on the phone would be a more personal way to extend the invitation.

‘Scott?’ she said when she answered the phone. ‘Is there anything wrong? Are we still on for tomorrow?’

‘Definitely! I was just calling to see if you’d… well, if you’d like to come over for dinner afterwards?’

‘At your dorm?’ she asked, curious.

‘No… I’m… I’m staying with some friends, well… a family, actually’ he stuttered. ‘Not just any family… Neal and Sara are old friends and… they have a little girl, she’s two… she’s really cute.’   
  
He rolled his eyes as he realized he was rambling.

‘Sure’ Moira said, sounding somewhat unsure. Something had to be hiding under all that stuttering and she was curious to find out what it was all about.

‘Great… great!’ Scott said. ‘So… I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

He sat there for a long time, replaying the conversation in his mind. When had he become this stammering, insecure guy who couldn't string a sentence together? He’d always been confident and sure of himself but preparing to tell Moira about his past had him rattled. He really liked this girl and if they had a hope in hell of moving on to the next phase of their relationship, he had to be honest with her.

The front door opened and he heard giggling - mostly Sara, although Neal was sounding very cheerful as well. The two of them appeared before him, large grins on their faces and he sat up, turning off the television.

‘Hey, you two! You look like you’re having a good night’ he commented.

‘The best’ Sara said as she tucked into Neal’s side. Scott wondered if Neal might actually be propping her up for a second but she moved away, picking up a few stray toys which had been littering the floor by the couch.

‘How was Hope?’ Neal asked as he went to the fridge to get both he and his wife a glass of water. ‘And where’s Mozzie? Did he abandon ship?’

‘I hope you don't mind. I sent him home about an hour ago. There was no point in both of us sitting around. And Hope was fine, a perfect little angel, as usual.’

Sara and Neal exchanged glances; maybe, she was finally growing out of her difficult phase.

‘So, everything is fine?’ Sara asked with a furtive head nod towards the back yard.

‘Yeah, yeah, everything went just as expected’ Scott answered, getting to his feet. ‘Look, I know it’s late but I really need to stretch my legs before I turn in. I think I’ll take a walk; I’ve been sitting around here all night.’

Truth was, taking a stroll in the suburban neighbourhood was the last thing he wanted to do but he wanted to give the two lovebirds some privacy and he knew Sara would be eager to give Neal his anniversary gift - which was a mere few feet away from where he stood.

‘Sure’ Neal said with a frown. ‘Whatever you want, Scott.’

He was gone in an instant, leaving the happy couple alone. Neal’s hands were instantly on his wife, going for the zipper on the back of her dress, a move she intercepted with agility as she took his hands in hers and pulled him towards the family room.

‘Everything in due course. Come on, I have something for you’ she murmured.

He watched her face, alight with mischief.

‘But first…’ she continued. ‘I need you to take off your jacket’ she said as she pulled his suit jacket off his shoulders and threw it on a nearby chair.

‘I like where this is going already’ Neal said, his voice growing rough.

‘And your tie’ Sara said as she lovingly loosened his tie and pulled it off.

‘Mmmmm’ Neal moaned, reaching for her.

‘Ah, ah, ah! Not yet’ she warned. ‘Now, turn around.’

Neal raised his eyebrows in question and she gave him a gentle shove, proceeding to cover his eyes with his tie and tugging it tight behind his head.

‘Oooooh, yes, kinky’ Neal said playfully as he reached out for her.

‘Neal, would you please be serious. I went to a lot of trouble to find the perfect gift, in keeping with the theme and everything so just… just behave for a minute.’

She took her husband’s arm and began leading him towards the patio doors, curious herself as to how her hired men had made out with their little project. A glance towards the back deck confirmed that they had done just as requested and frankly, it looked even better than she’d imagined.

‘Come on’ she prodded as she pulled Neal along to the darkened backyard. ‘Almost there.’

She turned him around to face her, pushing gently as he tentatively took a step back. ‘This is all very mysterious, Repo’ he commented with a large grin. ‘I like it when you’re secretive.’

‘Well, it’s all about to be revealed’ she said. ‘Step back… one more step, one more…’

Neal felt something move against the back of his legs and he stilled for an instant and Sara gave him a gentle push. ‘All right, I’ve got you. Just sit back’ she instructed as Neal did what he was told.

He felt the gentle movement of the hammock under him and he let himself fall, bringing Sara tumbling on top of him and he began to giggle, grabbing his makeshift blindfold and pulling it off to reveal the sight of fairy lights shining all around them.

For a minute there, Sara thought they were both going to tumble to the ground but he held her close, keeping her from falling off as they both held on for dear life while the hammock built for two enveloped them.

Neal grew quiet as he took in the sight. ‘Oh my god! Baby, this is amazing!’ he said, finally settling in with Sara in his arms.

‘It’s built for two’ she declared with pride. ‘Maybe even three, if Hope wants to join us… and it’s made of _cotton_ ’ she added with a self-satisfied grin.

‘Yes, it is’ Neal said slowly as he turned to look at his beautiful wife. ‘This is fantastic, just what this backyard needed.’

He cradled her against him, his lips going to her forehead as he spoke.

‘Honey, you did good. I love this and it’s just like…’ he began as he realized she’d practically given it away with her recollection of their honeymoon.

‘You did that on purpose… talking about the cottage in Kennebunkport’ he said with a head shake.

‘Slid it right over the plate for you’ she said with a wide grin.

‘Mmmmm’ Neal moaned, relaxing. ‘This is really comfy… I may never want to sleep in our bed again.’

Sara giggled. ‘You think? It could get a little tricky with some of the high jinks you get up to in the bedroom. You know, with the neighbours and all.’

‘What kind of action do you suppose we could get away with on this thing?’ Neal asked playfully as he turned tentatively and began nipping at Sara’s bottom lip. ‘I mean before we fall and break our necks.’

‘Probably G-rated’ she responded, kissing him back.

‘We could try…’ Neal moaned, his hands moving to the zipper of her dress.

‘Oh, no you don’t!’ Sara warned. ‘I’m not lying out here in my best lingerie and nothing else.’

‘Mmmm… now you’ve really done it… appealing to my baser instincts. Part of me wants to lie here and just hold you… look up at the moon…’ he said noticing the clear sky, full to overflowing with bright stars.‘The other part of me wants to go upstairs and unwrap the rest of my present’ he said, turning to kiss her languidly.

Sara laughed and let her hand linger on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Well, they’re calling for great weather tomorrow. Why don’t we go upstairs and tomorrow, we can lie out here in the sunshine and just relax, tuck Hope in between the two of us…’

‘That works for me’ he mumbled as his lips began to chase hers.

WCWCWC

Neal got to unwrap his other gift behind closed doors and finally settled in for a good night’s sleep with a satisfied grin on his face. By early Sunday morning, he was seated at his kitchen table with Hope and Scott, planning for the day ahead. They were in the middle of discussing the dinner menu when his burner phone rang and Neal startled at the unfamiliar sound.

He brought his finger to his lips and without hesitation, Scott scooped up Hope in his arms and took her out to the backyard to see their new acquisition.

‘Halden’ Neal said into his phone as the patio door closed behind them.

‘I’m calling a meeting with the whole crew tomorrow night at 9:00’ the disembodied voice said.

‘I can do that’ Neal answered. ‘Do we have a target date yet?’

‘You leave that to me. Just be at the bar at 9:00 and we’ll go over some of the details.’

Sara appeared and stood silently, listening in on Neal’s end of the conversation. His face was tense and her body tensed in response. He was walking a fine line with this undercover operation and she didn't like his involvement in the case one little bit.

‘I’ll be there’ Neal said curtly before hanging up.

Sara stepped in closer to him and instinctively brought her arms around his waist, craving reassurance. She could hear his breathing - a sure sign that he was not entirely at ease with the situation.

‘It’s fine’ he lied. ‘I don't want you worrying about me.’

‘Like that’s going to happen’ she answered, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into his chest.

Neal pulled her away, getting a good look into her eyes. ‘Do you want me to pull out of this one?’ he asked.

She let out a laboured sigh. ‘No’ she admitted. ‘I know this is important for you and for Peter. Just…’

‘I know, I know’ he interrupted. ‘I’ll be careful.’

WCWCWC

The two men sat, hunched over the table in the pub, voices low as if they were planning a heist - oh, yeah, they _were_ planning a heist.

‘Is everything on schedule?’ Jerome Goldberg asked.

‘Yeah, they started putting stuff up yesterday’ answered the gallery’s young clerk.

Goldberg slipped an envelope towards him and the young man grabbed for it, stuffing it in his shirt pocket as he surveyed the faces around them.

‘Did those FBI agents ever come back?’ Goldberg asked.

‘Not since they met with the owner on Thursday’ the other man responded.

‘What did they look like?’

‘What? The agents?’

‘No, your mother, you idiot’ Goldberg answered sarcastically.

‘Oh, I took a picture of them while they were waiting to meet with my boss’ the clerk said, pulling out his phone.

Goldberg gave him a look of annoyance. ‘And you couldn't lead with that?’ he asked angrily.

‘I didn’t think it mattered’ he said woefully as he handed over his phone.

The blood drained from the older man’s face as he got a look at the two FBI agents on the screen.

‘ _These_ are the two FBI agents who came in to the gallery to warn her about a possible theft?’ he asked, hoping there was some kind of mistake.

‘Yeah, why?’ the younger man asked.

‘Because I think I’m being set up.’

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

‘Mmmm’ Sara hummed as she entered the kitchen. ‘It smells fantastic in here.’

She made her way to stand behind Neal and stood on her tiptoes, peeking over his shoulder. ‘What are we having for dinner?’

Neal pulled his eyes away from the leeks he was chopping and he glanced over at his wife.

‘Scott says his girlfriend hasn't had a home cooked meal since Christmas and apparently, she loves seafood. So, I’m making crab cakes and maple glazed salmon with basmati rice.’

‘That sounds amazing’ Sara said as she playfully smacked her husband’s perfectly gorgeous ass. ‘Carry on, Caffrey!’

‘Ouch!’ Neal scowled, feigning annoyance. ‘So, did Hope go down for her nap all right?’

‘She was out like a light in under two minutes - probably exhausted from staying up late last night’ Sara replied, studying Neal and noting how cheerful he looked.

‘Speaking of which, how come _you_ were so bright eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. I figuredyou would have been exhausted after the late night we had…’ she added, wagging her eyebrows.

‘Spending _quality time_ with you is always… invigorating’ Neal teased as leaned in and gave her peck on the cheek.

She glanced out the kitchen window, spying her anniversary gift swaying softly in the summer breeze.

‘Can you pull yourself away long enough to come out and spend some _quality time_ with me out on the deck before Scott gets back and Hope wakes up?’ she asked.

‘Yeah… give me five minutes to tidy up here and I’ll be right out’ he answered with a wink.

Turned out three minutes was all Neal needed to put things away and join his wife out on their backyard deck. He found her, eyes closed, gently rocking back and forth in the high-end hammock and he ran his hand along the sturdy cotton and the soft, built in pillows, admiring its craftsmanship.

‘This is really quality stuff’ he commented as Sara’s eyes flew open. ‘You spared no expense on this, did you Repo?’

She shifted away from the middle and made room for Neal who kicked off his shoes and slipped in next to her, bringing his arms around her.

‘Nothing’s too good for you’ she moaned, her voice sleepy. ‘And besides, all the credit goes to Peter and Mozzie for putting it together.’

‘Speaking of gifts, are you ready to start our dance lessons next week? First stop, the salsa’ Neal shimmied as he snapped his fingers.

Sara giggled. ‘I can’t believe you really signed us up for dance lessons!’ she exclaimed. ‘You _know_ I have two left feet.’

‘That’s okay, you can hold on to me and I won’t even complain if you step on my toes’ he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. ‘Apparently, it’s a great way to get some exercise and I thought you’d appreciate that more than a gym membership.’

‘Damn right!’ she exclaimed. ‘Anyway, anything I get to do with you is bound to be fun.’

Neal grew quiet and Sara surmised his mind had wandered back to the case he was working on - as well as young Scott Rivers’ eventual fate.

‘What is it, honey? What’s wrong?’ she whispered.

Neal shrugged; he was learning that keeping things from his wife wasn’t a great idea and even when he tried to shield her, she would inevitably put her investigative skills to good use and figure things out anyway.

‘Goldberg called back and said the meeting had been moved up to tomorrow afternoon’ he admitted grudgingly.

Sara turned to look in his eyes. ‘And that’s got you worried?’ she asked.

‘It’s just… his voice sounded different. Like maybe he was… anxious or maybe upset, I don't know. I just didn't like the feeling I got.’

‘Did you mention it to Peter?’

‘Yeah, they’ll be nearby when I meet with him and he’s giving me a communication device so they can listen in… just in case.’

‘Neal, are you sure you want to go through with this?’

‘What choice do I have? I’m the Bureau’s only in and if I back out now, we won't know what he’s up to or when he’s planning on hitting the gallery.’

‘Honey, you always have a choice, you know that’ she said, her voice soft. ‘If you tell Peter —’

Neal hugged her tight. ‘It’s fine, babe. I shouldn't have mentioned it. You know me… I’ve always got my spidey senses on high alert’ he scoffed, wishing he hadn’t mentioned his fleeting sense of apprehension.

Sara’s eyes narrowed and she searched Neal’s face but he’d closed his eyes, pulling her in a little tighter against his chest.

‘Let’s enjoy the quiet before the house gets full again’ he murmured.

And, at least for the time being, the subject was closed.

WCWCWC

‘Oh, my God! Did you see that?’ Neal whispered as he and Sara brought in the dirty dishes from the dining room.

Sara’s eyes grew wide as she reached into the refrigerator to grab cream for the coffee. ’I know!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s a real Louis Vuitton!’

‘What are you _talking_ about?’ Neal said, staring back incredulously at his wife.

‘Her purse… it’s a genuine Louis Vuitton. That thing is worth at least two thousand bucks.’

‘ _Her purse_?’ Neal repeated, disbelieving. ‘That’s what you noticed? Are you kidding me?’

They could hear Hope gurgling in the background and the muted voices of Scott and his new girlfriend, chatting in the nearby dining room. 

Sara stopped to look at Neal; obviously, she was missing something. ‘Well, what are _you_ talking about?’

Neal looked as his wife and gave her an exaggerated eye roll. ‘Moira…’ he whispered. ‘She looks just like you!’

‘Like me?’ Sara echoed, surprised by Neal’s answer.

‘She could be your kid sister’ he said, looking over his shoulder to make sure their conversation wasn't being overheard.

‘What?’ Sara said, staring back at him. ‘What are you talking about, Neal? She does _not_ look like me.’

Neal shook his head in disbelief and reached into the cupboard, grabbing some coffee cups and placing them on a tray.

‘She looks _exactly_ like you. Same height, same weight, same hair colour, those green eyes. She even walks and talks like you.’

Sara scoffed. ‘You’re crazy!’

‘If I walked into a room and you were both facing away from me, I might think she _was_ you!’ Neal said, glancing over his shoulder once more.

Sara shrugged; except for their similar colouring, she couldn't see the resemblance. ‘You’re exaggerating.’

‘I am not!’ Neal argued, placing the pineapple upside down cake onto a platter and grabbing some dessert plates and forks.

‘You’re not what?’ came Scott’s voice as he appeared with an empty bottle of wine in his hand.

‘I am not… going to be able to have a single bite of this cake. I’m stuffed!’ Neal fibbed as Sara gave him the evil eye.

‘Here…’ he said nervously. ‘Why don’t you take the dessert in and I’ll get us another bottle of wine.’

Scott took the cake from Neal’s hands and made his way back to the dining room, followed by Sara and Neal, bringing up the rear with coffee and a glass of milk for Hope.

Sara’s eyes went to the gorgeous plum coloured purse which lay by the young woman’s chair and she feigned tripping over it, drawing attention to the expensive handbag.

‘I’m sorry’ Moira said as she picked up the purse. ‘I almost tripped you.’

‘That’s okay’ Sara said, eyes still riveted on the purse.

Neal rolled his eyes; his wife was about as subtle as a freight train.

‘That’s a gorgeous purse, Moira’ she said. ‘Is that a Louis Vuitton?’ she asked innocently.

Moira laughed. ‘It’s worth more than my entire wardrobe. My aunt gave it to me for Christmas last year. She works for Louis Vuitton in Paris and she got it for a tenth of the price because of a manufacturing defect.’

Sara continued staring at the handbag. ‘Looks authentic to me’ she commented, practically salivating.

‘It’s the lining’ Moira said as she opened it up, exposing the inside of the purse. ‘They put a paisley lining instead of the plain silk. Frankly, I wouldn't know the difference if it hit me in the face.’

Sara nodded and Neal could tell she was on the verge of asking the young woman if she could score her one of her very own. He decided he needed to change the subject quick before his wife embarrassed herself over a purse, of all things.

‘Cake anyone?’ he asked as Hope jumped up and down in her seat.

Neal’s eyes moved to look at Scott who was staring at his girlfriend with a sick puppy dog look on his face - probably the same look Neal got whenever Sara walked into a room. Scott’s attraction to the pretty young woman was a back-handed compliment for both Neal and his wife. A compliment for Sara, since Scott was attracted to a woman who looked just like her and a compliment for Neal whom Scott obviously thought had amazing taste when it came to choosing a wife.

Neal realized once more the strong influence he was having on young Scott Rivers - something he decided he should not take lightly. 

WCWCWC

On Monday afternoon, Neal made his way to the designated meeting place with the usual spring in his step sadly missing in action. Ever since Goldberg had called back with a change in time and place, Neal had had an overwhelming sense of doom. Had he been made? If so, how and by whom? Had he been careless in the Starbucks that day or had Goldberg had him followed after their first meeting in the pub? Whatever the reason, Neal felt unsettled - a feeling that only intensified when he arrived at the agreed upon location: an abandoned warehouse in a shady part of the Bronx.

‘I’m here’ he murmured for the benefit of his audience, sequestered in the nearby van. ‘It’s an abandoned warehouse and I don’t see anyone else around. I’m going in’ he said pushing the door open and peering inside.

He had his instructions - and his activation phrase, although he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. If they were forced to abort this undercover operation, Jerome Goldberg would slip through their fingers and Scott Rivers might be forced to return to jail for something he hadn’t done. He knew Peter and the rest of the team had ears on them and would be quick to react in the event things went sideways and so, armed with that knowledge, he soldiered on, stepping into the large abandoned building.

Any doubt as to whether or not he’d been set up vanished as Neal entered the cavernous space. The place was devoid of anything but a few empty boxes and crates and the squeaking and hissing of roaming vermin - which could be heard scuttling around, although not immediately visible to the naked eye. His suspicions were confirmed when a voice was heard, resonating in the abandoned building.

‘Caffrey!’ he heard as he turned to face Jerome Goldberg.

Neal gave a sly smile which wavered almost imperceptibly when he noticed the gun in Goldberg hand, aimed directly at him.

‘So, I see you figured out who I am’ Neal said, his voice bursting with confidence.

‘Didn’t take much digging’ the other man answered. ‘Jimmy took one look at your picture and recognized you right away.’

‘My picture?’ Neal repeated, voice cocky. ‘Is that from your inside source at the gallery?’

‘It pays to have friends in strategic places’ Goldberg responded, waving the gun menacingly.

‘I _thought_ that young clerk looked a little sketchy’ Neal said, taking a step forward.

‘Stay where you are Mr. Caffrey’ the other man warned. ‘I’ve been known to have an itchy finger.’

‘Understood’ Neal said.

Under his composed exterior, Neal’s mind was churning madly; surely, there was some way out of this mess if he just remained calm. If he played his cards right, maybe he could still maintain his cover and save the operation - as long as Peter refrained from charging in on his white horse too hastily. One sure way to get the team rushing in to his rescue was to mention that Goldberg was holding a gun - and that it was pointed directly at him. Better to keep that little nugget of information to himself unless things began to deteriorate and he felt he was in imminent danger.

‘So, I guess you’ve figured out that I moonlight for the FBI’ Neal admitted with a relaxed shrug.

‘Is that what you call it? Moonlighting? Jimmy says you’re pretty tight with them, helping them on cases. A real born-again G-man, he called you.’

Neal scoffed and let out a devious laugh. ‘I _was_ a CI… for four years. Four years of having the Feds breathing down my neck and using me to collect intel, forcing me to turn on all the contacts I’d made over the years. That Agent Burke is a piece of work; taking advantage of me at every turn. But it didn't take long for me to figure out how to make our little arrangement mutually beneficial.’

The man listened but the gun remained trained on Neal. This guy was either a very good liar or a brilliant conman who’d managed to worm his way into the higher echelons of the intelligence community - Goldberg couldn't quite tell which.

‘But here’s the thing’ Neal continued, taking a step forward. He dropped his voice as if confiding a secret. ‘They didn't pay enough to keep me in the lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to - so I had to diversify.’

‘Your sentence is over. Has been for over a year’ Goldberg said flatly. ‘Why keep chumming with the Feds?’

Neal’s face hardened. ‘They put me through hell, sending me undercover, letting me risk my life so they could raise their clearance rate, raking in all the glory’ Neal said with disgust.

‘I decided to turn the tables on them. Hanging around Feds gives me some great insights into what they’re thinking and sometimes, if I keep my ear to the ground I can pick up some very interesting intel - sort of a reverse CI, if you know what I mean.’

‘Are you trying to tell me that you’re _not_ working with the FBI on this case?’

‘Oh no, I’m definitely working with the FBI on this case - as an informant’ Neal declared.

‘They think they’re using _me_ but what they don’t realize is that it’s mutual. That’s why I put my name out there - I heard through the grapevine that you were looking for someone to work the security system at the Stinson Gallery. I actually scoped it out last week when Burke and I went to visit the owner. I find out a lot of useful stuff by hanging around the Feds.’

Neal could see the guy’s eyes start to glaze over as he tried to assess whether or not Neal was telling the truth. He needed to go all the way with this.

‘Like the theft at the Cordoba Museum two months ago - I found out from the Bureau when they’d be shipping that collection of South American artifacts back to Peru. Top secret stuff’ he added arrogantly as he brought a finger to his lips.

‘I heard about that theft’ Goldberg said, letting the gun drop to his side. ‘Clean getaway.’

Neal gave a satisfied smile. ’Well, if it hadn't been for the intel I picked up within the Bureau walls, that never would have happened.’

‘You’re telling me you stole that collection?’ Goldberg asked, incredulous.

‘No, of course not. I just passed along the information I’d picked up about when the exhibit was scheduled to leave the museum and I collected a healthy share of the profits for my trouble. Look, Goldberg, I go where the money is… I always have.’

Neal stared into the man’s eyes, unsure if the guy was buying any of his bullshit. Peter was a few feet away, in the van, listening, probably having conniptions by now. The mere fact he hadn't yet busted into the warehouse with guns drawn was a credit to the confidence he had in Neal - and his silver tongue.

‘Why the subterfuge, Caffrey? You should have ‘fessed up about who you were when we met up last week. How do I know you’re not a plant for the Bureau?’

‘Look, my name is associated with the Feds. I prefer to keep my aliases separate for just such occasions. Nick Halden has an excellent reputation as a safecracker and forger’ Neal said with pride. ‘Neal Caffrey, on the other hand was a CI for the Bureau.’

Jerome Goldberg looked him up and down, trying to make up his mind and Neal could tell he just about had him on the hook.

‘So, you’re telling me you play both sides?’ Goldberg asked, looking him up and down.

‘The secret is not to get too greedy or you blow your cover.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Look, if I’m not lying here with a bullet in my head, it’s probably because you’ve already done your research. And if you’ve done your research, you know that I did four years at Sing Sing for bond forgery. I was lucky… they didn't get me on anything else but I might have been involved in a couple of high profile thefts in Europe. I actually acquired _St George and the Dragon_ in ’05’ Neal crowed. ‘I still have it tucked away somewhere for a rainy day. And the Antioch manuscripts… well let’s just say my offshore account is very, very healthy.’

‘You _do_ have quite the reputation’ the man admitted.

‘And proud of it’ Neal added. ‘But I don’t want to burn my sources, not now. And that includes my sources at the FBI.’

‘And the Feds don't suspect you?’

Neal gave him one of his winning smiles. ‘As far as they’re concerned, I’m the goddamn poster boy for reform’ he bragged.

Goldberg stared into Neal’s eyes and Neal managed not to flinch at the glaring examination.

‘Look, you can cut me out of this job or you can take advantage of my very specialized skills for the measly sum of $50,000’ Neal concluded. ‘Either way, life goes on for me.’

He could see the man wavering and Neal knew he had to play his ace in the hole. If they were going to have a chance at catching this guy, he needed to remain on the inside and clued into Goldberg’s plans.

‘Listen’ Neal finally said, playing his last card. ‘The Feds know something is going down and I can find out when and how they plan to trip you up.’

Goldberg let out a wavering breath, making up his mind.

‘The whole crew is meeting at 9:00. Bring me something new and you’re in’ he said as Neal let out a silent sigh of relief.

‘I’ll be there’ Neal said with a sly smile.

WCWCWC

‘Jesus Christ! He’s going to be the death of me’ Peter muttered as he took in a slow breath. ‘He’s never going to change, is he?’

Jones and Diana looked at each other, rolling their eyes at their boss’ reaction.

‘Would you want him any other way?’ Diana responded with a smile. ‘I think he just talked Goldberg out of dumping him in the river with a pair of cement boots _and_ he managed to maintain his cover.’

Peter shook his head in disbelief. He’d been so close to storming the place and arresting Goldberg - although the man would have walked away scot free before he was even properly processed and booked. Now, there was hope they could collar this guy for all those thefts he’d pulled country wide - thanks to Neal and his fast thinking.

The door to the back of the van opened and Neal climbed in, looking a little worse for wear. 

‘You all right?’ Peter asked.

Neal let himself fall on a nearby chair and let out an audible sigh. ‘I didn't think I was going to make it out of there alive for a minute there’ he admitted.

‘And yet you didn't use the activation phrase’ Peter chastised.

‘I knew I had him, Peter’ Neal responded. ‘The guy’s just looking for reasons to carry out this heist. The payoff must be big.’

‘You know, Caffrey’ Jones said, straight faced. ‘You do a pretty good backstabbing double-crosser.’

‘Why, thank you Jones’ Neal said as if he'd been paid the highest of compliments.

‘All right people’ Peter interrupted. ‘Let’s get down to figuring out where we go from here.’

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Peter sat at his dining room table, scooping out some saag panner and jasmine rice from cardboard containers onto a couple of plates. He could hear Neal’s soft voice floating in from the backyard where he was talking to Sara on the phone.

‘Yeah, yeah’ he heard Neal say. ‘The meeting went fine’ - not a lie exactly, more of an exaggeration, unless conversing with someone while they wagged a gun in your face qualified as ‘fine’.

‘Peter and I are going to grab a bite to eat before I go back out to meet with Goldberg and his crew.’

Silence.

‘Nothing. He just wanted to go over a few things about the security system, that’s all’ - a total lie this time.

Silence.

‘Honey, I told you, Peter will be there to back me up - anyway, the meeting is in a pub, nothing’s going to happen to me in a public place.’

More silence.

‘Sara…there’s really nothing to worry about. Look, I promise I’ll try not to be late, okay?’

Still more silence.

‘I love you too. Kiss Hope goodnight for me.’

Neal reentered the house and took his place across from Peter, looking as guilty as if he’d just stolen a priceless Monet and stashed it up in his attic.

‘It gets harder and harder every day to lie to that woman’ Neal said wryly as he grabbed for a piece of naan bread.

Peter gave him a rueful smile. ‘Tell me about it. The curse of the married man.’

‘Does it ever get any easier?’ Neal asked earnestly.

‘I’ll let you know’ Peter answered as Neal gave him a death stare.

‘I guess you kind of have to weigh the consequences of being totally honest against having her worry about you needlessly… or _not_ so needlessly’ Peter explained. ‘I’ve been trying to find the perfect balance for almost fifteen years.’

‘Yeah, well, let me know if you ever figure it out’ Neal moaned.

He seemed to snap out of it and dug into his plate of food, not surprised to find he was starving after such a trying afternoon.

‘So, you think Goldberg doesn't have any idea we’re on to him?’ Peter asked.

Neal shook his head and took the time to swallow the mouthful of tikka masala chicken he’d just put in his mouth. ‘He knows the Bureau has gotten intel regarding a theft at the Nicole Stinson Gallery but he doesn't know he’s been identified as the suspect.’

‘That’s great, it gives us an edge’ Peter said as he looked across the table at his best buddy, noting the look of dismay on Neal’s face.

‘Neal, you were incredible this afternoon. Keeping your cool like you did…’

Neal let out a painful gush of air. ‘You know those things I said - about the Bureau using me… I don't _really_ feel that way, well, not anymore at least.’

Peter smiled from across the table. ‘What is it you called me? A piece of work?’

Neal scoffed and shook his head. ‘I know you always looked out for me when I was your CI and most of the time you actually had to rein me in.’

‘But you still felt used at times?’ Peter asked, suddenly overcome with guilt.

‘Sometimes… the Lindsay Gless kidnapping case comes to mind’ Neal admitted as he thought back to the case in which his arch enemy Ryan Wilkes had kidnapped a young girl and Neal had been hung out to dry by his case agent.

‘Yeah, well Kimberly Rice _is_ a real piece of work’ Peter admitted, thinking back to the agent who had enlisted, then thoroughly taken advantage of Neal in order to further her career.

‘ _A tool in her belt_ is how I think she referred to me’ Neal said, still smarting from her lack of respect for him.

Peter suddenly felt a surge of remorse for how Neal had been treated at times as a CI. He deserved respect for the wonderful work he’d done and Peter felt guilty for not always giving Neal the consideration he so richly deserved.

As if Neal could read his thoughts, he shrugged. ‘Peter, it’s fine. I’ll be the first to admit I was pretty cocky back then…’

‘Back then?’ Peter interrupted with a smirk as Neal gave him the evil eye.

Peter looked fondly at his best friend, recalling all those chances Neal took, all in the pursuit of justice and in an attempt to quench his thirst for thrills and adventure. 

‘Well, the important thing is that I got Goldberg to believe me today’ Neal said, scooping up a forkful of rice.

‘Now, we can keep an eye on him’ Peter agreed.

Neal nodded. ‘Hopefully tonight, he’ll come clean about when he plans to hit the gallery - otherwise, we’ll have to keep tabs on him until he decides to make his move.’

‘Well, every art thief worth his salt knows it’s easier to hit when things are about to be moved from one location to another. Everything will be crated up and easy to lift. Do you think that’s what he’ll do, wait until the end of the exhibit?’

Neal shrugged. ‘Who knows? Now that he knows the Bureau is on high alert, he might decide to do something totally unexpected and hit during the week when the art is still up on the walls.’

‘And he has that inside man at the gallery… Do you think we should lean on him?’ Peter asked. ‘Maybe _he’ll_ talk.’

Neal looked uncertain. ‘Too risky’ he opined. ‘I think we should let it play out or we’ll never get cuffs on Goldberg. We’ll spook him if he figures out the Bureau knows about his inside man and we’ll probably never see him again.’

Peter let out a laugh, surprising Neal. ‘What? What are you laughing about?’

‘You! You’ve turned into a bonafide good guy!’ Peter laughed.

Neal frowned and shook his head, not sure he wanted the distinction of being a good guy. ‘I am _not_ a good guy’ he denied, grinning naughtily and digging in for another bite.

Peter studied him carefully, making the decision to broach the touchy subject yet again. ‘You know Neal, you’ve been home with Hope for over two years now…’ Peter began.

Neal looked up; he knew where this was going, where it always went.

‘You do know, my offer still stands, right?’ Peter continued, predictably. ‘There’ll always be a permanent position for you at the Bureau as a special consultant - if that’s what you want. Hughes asks me all the time if you’ll consider coming back.’

The two of them had had this conversation on multiple occasions and there were moments when Neal was tempted by the financial security of having a full time job with the FBI. He loved the camaraderie in the White Collar Division, he thrived on the intrigue of working cases and he enjoyed spending time with his best friend. But the truth was, he loved being home with Hope and until she was ready to go to school, he and Sara had agreed that one of them should stay home with her.

Besides, he really didn't think working full time for the FBI was his _thing_ \- as much as he enjoyed working the occasional case and going undercover. He’d spent his youth drifting aimlessly from one bad decision to the next. Now that he had a family, he owed it to himself and to his daughter to discover his own true path and at the ripe old age of thirty-eight, he still wasn't sure _what_ that might be. All he knew was that he needed to be honest with himself about what he wanted out of life and right now, thanks to Sara’s support, he had the luxury of time to figure things out.

‘I know… and I appreciate the offer, Peter. I _really_ do’ Neal said as he'd said many times before. ‘But the Bureau… this… it’s you. It’s not me. I need to find my _own_ thing. You know the thing that ignites that fire in your belly… the way working for the Bureau does for you.’

Peter nodded, as always, disappointed. Working with Neal at his side made everything more fun and exciting and since Neal had gotten off anklet, Peter had missed his partner every single day. Luckily, they still collaborated on occasion but most importantly, they were in each others’ lives - and they were closer than ever.

‘Sorry’ Peter said. ‘I had to try.’

Neal scoffed. ‘Eat up. I’ve got to get back to the Bronx in another hour.’

WCWCWC

Neal made it home later than expected and was surprised to see the lights on as he drove up the street and into the driveway. Sara was pretty early to bed these days - especially on weeknights - as her body struggled to get back to her pre-illness energy levels. He was exhausted from a long day, rife with emotion and the stress of dealing with such a volatile criminal.

Once at the pub, the six men had sat around a table in the back room discussing the details of the heist. Two of the men, who'd been introduced to Neal as Floyd and Oscar were the muscle and their job was to act as lookouts during the job as well as drive the getaway van. They were big and sinister looking but most notably, they were armed, which always raised the stakes for Neal, who was left vulnerable to potential violence.

The young clerk from the gallery, whose name was Jeremy, was also present. He was the inside man, keeping Goldberg apprised of any changes in the schedule for the exhibit as well as the owner’s comings and goings and any other changes that might affect their plans.

Jimmy the Greek was there too; he was the fence for whatever they would be able to harvest and he’d had his ear to the ground so they could find buyers for some of the pieces that were being shown. It became obvious that Goldberg had his eye on one very specific piece which had been the initial target for the theft: the Rothko. Goldberg had a client in another city who was willing to pay an obscene amount of money for it and much of the discussion revolved around removing the piece from its frame without damaging it.

Goldberg turned to Neal for advice and suddenly, Neal’s role, which had been limited to granting entry by disarming the alarm system, began to grow to include helping identify pieces of particular worth and helping dislodge them from their cumbersome frames. Goldberg offered him double his take for this additional task and Neal had agreed, considering things would never get that far.

Jeremy had contributed intel about the gallery’s alarm system. It was connected directly to the closest police precinct and the crew would have about eight minutes from the moment it was deactivated to get what they needed and be on their way. Not triggering the alarm bought them additional minutes as the police scrambled to find out if they needed to respond by getting in touch with the owner. 

After the meeting, Neal had headed back to the Federal Building where he had debriefed with Peter, Jones and Diana. Things were coming to a head and now, they needed to strategize about how to crash the little party Goldberg was planning.

Neal entered the house and checked the time, noticing it was past midnight and he tiptoed in, surprised to hear soft voices coming from the kitchen. Rounding the corner, he found Sara, sharing a cup of tea with Scott at their kitchen table.

‘Hey, you guys are still up?’ he whispered, saddling up next to Sara and leaning in to kiss her cheek.

‘We wanted to hear how it went’ Scott admitted. ‘So, what happened with Michael…. I mean Goldberg?’

Neal took a long deep breath. He could certainly understand that they both wanted details but the last thing he felt like doing was rehashing his whole day. All he wanted was to sink into bed and forget about everything until morning.

‘It went… okay’ he said, standing and reaching into the fridge for something to drink. ‘He’s planning on hitting the gallery overnight on Thursday’ Neal summed up, taking his seat and sliding his arm on the back of Sara’s chair.

She frowned and he let his hand linger on her back, rubbing her shoulder. Sara looked up at him; he looked done in and she gave him a gentle smile.

She brought her hand to his thigh and squeezed. ’You look exhausted, honey’ she said as he yawned.

‘It’s been a long day’ he admitted.

Scott took the hint and got to his feet. ‘Yeah, sure’ he conceded. ‘You should really get some rest.’

He was dying to hear details but they would have to wait until morning. He knew Neal was doing this in part for him and he needed to give him the room to do what he needed to do.

‘Maybe you can fill me in tomorrow’ he added as he moved to his temporary digs in the family room.

‘Sure’ Neal answered. ‘Try to get some sleep, kid. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.’

The words slipped out seamlessly but they were an empty shell - because in truth, Neal had no idea how this was going to play out.

WCWCWC

Life continued in the Caffrey household while everyone held their breath, waiting for Thursday - and for the other shoe to drop. Scott’s future hung in the balance and he was well aware that if Jerome Goldberg was apprehended, his own chances of walking away a free man would greatly improve as the FBI built their case against the criminal and exposed his motivation for having had Scott arrested in the first place.

Neal was anxious, for obvious reasons, but he tried his best to keep it from Sara and remain upbeat whenever Scott was around. He spent Tuesday out and about with Hope, taking her to story time at the local library and spending time in his studio while she napped. In the afternoon, he buckled her into the car and headed over to the Federal Building where everyone fawned over the toddler as they always did whenever she visited.

He sat with Peter and his team in the conference room, going over the details of the bust while Peter happily bounced his goddaughter on his lap. There was always a risk when guns were involved and Neal knew all too well that both Goldberg and his muscle would be carrying and might be quick to react when the Feds came bursting in to arrest them.

Neal was walking a fine line, having to perform for Goldberg by circumventing the gallery’s security system and ducking when the FBI eventually came charging in with guns drawn to arrest the thief. Those few moments were crucial for his safety and Peter continued to harp on ways Neal could keep himself safe by staying out of the line of fire.

Tuesday night arrived with a welcome distraction as he and Sara prepared to head out to their first ballroom dancing class. Scott was on child care duty and he had invited Moira over to give him a hand with Hope.

The five of them sat at the kitchen table having a quick bite to eat before the couple headed out to the Geneva School of Dance in Manhattan.

‘I’ve never had such an amazing grilled cheese’ Moira enthused as she dipped her sandwich in a cup of hot tomato soup.

‘The secret is to use Jarlsberg… and garlic butter’ Neal whispered to her as Scott and Sara looked on.

‘Well, it’s amazing’ she said with a smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Maze-ing’ Hope repeated as she clapped her hands to everyone’s amusement.

Sara ran her hand through her daughter’s thick, wavy hair. ‘Daddy makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches, doesn't he?’ she said as she winked at Neal.

‘So’ Scott said, looking from Sara to Neal. ‘Ballroom dancing, huh? Funny, I just can’t imagine the two of you twirling around a dance floor’ he teased.

Neal wagged his eyebrows in response. ‘Ye of little faith’ he retorted with a playful grin.

‘I got Neal some steel toed shoes but he’s refusing to wear them’ Sara joked. ‘He’s going to be sore tomorrow from me stepping on his toes all night.’

Neal chuckled. ‘I don’t mind… as long as we have fun.’

‘Are you okay with the bedtime routine, Scott?’ Sara asked.

‘Yeah, we’ll figure it out between the two of us’ he answered, smiling at Moira.

‘Cott!’ Hope shrieked. ‘Mart-ass!’

Sara’s eyes grew in response to her daughter’s exclamation. ‘Did she just say…’ she began, looking over at Neal.

Neal bit his bottom lip and looked guiltily at his wife. ‘Yeah… I think… that might be on me’ he admitted as Scott giggled, recalling how Neal had used the expression to tease him just a few days earlier.

‘Mart-ass! Mart-ass!’ Hope continued to shout with glee. She had no idea what it meant but it was getting a helluva reaction from everyone.

‘All right, sweet pea. That’s enough’ Neal admonished. ‘Eat your sandwich.’

Hope looked defiantly at her dad. ‘Mart-ass!’ she repeated as she looked him straight in the eye.

WCWCWC

‘Neal, we have to be more careful. She repeats everything’ Sara admonished as they sat in the car on the way to Manhattan.

‘Oh! _This_ from the woman who introduced the words ‘crap’ and ‘damn it’ into our daughter’s vocabulary’ Neal countered accusingly.

Sara looked away; of course, Neal was right. Of the two of them, she was probably more likely to spout off questionable language than he was. So far, she’d refrained from dropping the F-bomb in her daughter’s presence but it was bound to happen one of these days.

‘Point taken’ she admitted sheepishly.

She smoothed out her dress and admired Neal’s handiwork once more. ‘Well, we might be the worst dancers there tonight but I will definitely be the best dressed.’

‘So you like it?’ he asked, grabbing for her hand and squeezing.

‘I love it’ she said fondly.

WCWCWC

‘She’s a real sweetheart’ Moira declared once they had put Hope to bed.

‘Yeah, now if I can just get her to stop calling me ‘smart ass’ we’ll be all set’ Scott said with a laugh.

‘My niece Phoebe overheard my sister and her husband arguing and for six months she referred to her dad as ‘scum of the earth’ Moira told him as they settled in front of the television.

Scott turned to face her; he'd been waiting all night for the right time to come clean about what was happening with the arrest and his previous indiscretions. His face grew serious and Moira examined him, wondering what was on his mind.

‘Why do I have the feeling there’s something you want to tell me?’ she asked as he brought his arm up behind her against the back of the couch.

‘I… I’m really enjoying spending time with you’ he began nervously.

‘Same here, Scott’ she murmured, leaning into his personal space and bringing her face up to meet his.

He met her the rest of the way, his lips landing gently on hers and she responded in kind, bringing her hands up to his chest as they connected. She could feel Scott pulling back and she pulled away, looking into his eyes.

‘Is this not… doing it for you?’ she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

‘Sorry, no… I mean yes’ he muttered, embarrassed. ‘It absolutely does it for me. It’s just that… there’s something I need to tell you and I’m not sure you’re going to want to kiss me when I’m done.’

Moira frowned, wondering what could possibly make Scott think she wouldn't be interested in kissing him.‘O—kay’ she said, settling back on the couch.

‘It’s kinda why I’m staying here with Neal and Sara. I lost my job at Starbucks and I’m broke’ he began.

She nodded and waited for more. ‘That’s another story but what I really want you to know is that… well, after my mom died a few years back, I went… I went a little crazy and I got myself into trouble. I started stealing stuff… just not thinking, really. Acting out… and I got caught and I was sentenced to eighteen months in jail.’

Moira’s face remained serious but he couldn't tell what she might be thinking.

‘I got out a few months ago and Neal and Sara… well, they’ve been giving me a hand to get back on my feet’ he said.

There was silence as Moira looked into his eyes. ‘Look, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to get involved with me… but I’m going straight now and I’m determined to make something of myself. I know that’s what my mom would have wanted for me.’

‘Sounds like you loved your mom a lot’ Moira finally said.

Scott nodded and she could see a shadow moving across his face as he thought of the woman who had been there for him his whole life.

‘You have no idea’ he said, his voice breaking.

‘I think she would be really proud of you’ Moira continued, her hand reaching out to touch Scott’s face.

He relaxed a little to her touch and smiled as he looked into her beautiful green eyes. The next thing he knew, she drew closer and her lips connected with his as he felt himself melt to her touch.

‘Does that answer your question?’ she asked.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

‘One step forward, two steps back, ladies’ the instructor called out as the couples struggled with keeping up.

‘Oops, sorry honey…’ Sara murmured for the umpteenth time.

Neal was doing his best to be a good sport but having his wife step on his toes repeatedly for going on an hour and a half was growing tedious… and painful. He gave her a forced smile and checked his watch.

‘All right everyone, let’s take a break’ the woman said as the music stopped abruptly.

Neal let out a sigh of relief and took Sara’s hand as they made their way over to the snack table where other couples had begun to congregate. He noticed a man and a woman about their age amongst a sea of older looking couples and he gravitated towards them, catching the man’s eye and giving him one of his winning smiles.

‘Good workout, huh?’ he said to the young man.

‘Tell me about it. And I’m here under duress’ he commented with an eye roll as he glanced at thepretty blonde woman by his side.

The woman turned to look at Sara and smirked. ‘Jim’s company is holding a gala at the Westin next month and we didn't want to stick out like sore thumbs’ she explained.

‘Jim, that would be me’ the man said as he put out his hand for Neal.

‘Neal…’ Neal countered, shaking the man’s hand. ‘And this is my wife, Sara.’

‘I’m Jenny’ the pretty blonde said. ‘And if I don’t get to the bathroom soon, I’m going to burst.’

Sara’s eyes dropped, noticing the not so subtle baby bump hiding under the young woman’s dress.

‘Can I join you?’ she asked as they both headed out to the ladies room.

‘Is that your first?’ Neal asked after the women had left.

The man nodded. ‘We’re due in September. Do you two have kids?’

‘We do. A beautiful daughter, she’s two and a bit… and quite the handful’ Neal admitted with a wide grin.

‘Well, we’re really excited. We’d been trying for over three years and we finally had to go the IVF route. It cost us a fortune but it finally paid off.’

Neal nodded. Whether he and Sara would be blessed with more kids was still up in the air and he felt his heart tighten at the thought they might not be so lucky. The baby they’d lost just before Sara started her chemotherapy continued to haunt them - especially Sara who’d been an emotional wreck as she’d faced an uncertain future.

‘Well, congratulations. You’re going to love parenthood, it’s a crazy… wonderful ride’ Neal said earnestly.

‘So, what’s _your_ excuse for being here? Did your wife drag you here kicking and screaming like mine did?’

‘No, actually, it was my idea. I gave her these dance lessons for our wedding anniversary. Thought it would be nice to do something together’ Neal answered over the hum of a roomful of dance wannabes.

‘Well, you’re a better man than I am’ Jim responded with a smirk.

Neal looked at him and laughed. ‘I just hope my toes will forgive me. I’m afraid my wife needs to work on her coordina —’

He stopped suddenly as Sara appeared at his side.

‘Hey, Repo’ he mumbled as he handed her a cup of coffee.

‘What are you two plotting?’ Jenny asked, sidling up to her husband.

‘Just… guy stuff’ he replied as he glanced at Neal surreptitiously.

WCWCWC

Moira and Scott had been smooching on the couch with the television droning on quietly in the background when Scott suddenly sat at attention and grabbed for the remote.

‘What was that?’ he asked as he turned down the volume.

‘I think that was Hope’ Moira responded as she straightened up and proceeded to button up her blouse.

The young couple were instantly on their feet as the moaning was heard once again and they headed for the stairs to check on their young charge. Although Scott was new at this babysitting thing, Moira was not - she’d been babysitting since she was twelve years old and she’d been around her nieces and nephews for years. She was the first to make it up into Hope’s room, finding the toddler sitting up in bed, crying softly as she rubbed her eyes.

‘Momma…’ Hope moaned as Moira took a seat next to her on the bed.

‘Hey sweetie, what’s the matter?’ she asked softly, running her hand over her disheveled hair.

‘Want Poppa’ Hope cried a little louder.

Scott watched in silence, unsure what to do. He was fine as long as Hope was happy but ‘crying Hope’ was a little disconcerting for the novice child minder.

‘Did you have a bad dream?’ Moira whispered as she rubbed Hope’s back.

She noticed the stuffed toy by Hope’s pillow and picked it up, handing it to the young child.

‘Is this your special friend?’ she asked as Hope quieted down and looked at the young woman, eyes wide.

‘Effant’ she murmured, her voice shaky.

‘He’s a pretty pink elephant’ Moira agreed with a soft smile. ‘Hope, do you need to go pee?’

Hope nodded and took Moira’s outstretched hand. ‘And maybe we can get you a drink of juice before you go back to sleep’ she said, turning to look at Scott and giving him a head nod towards the stairs.

He stood, mesmerized at the way she’d managed to calm Hope down while Moira kept staring at him.

He frowned. ‘Oh…’ he finally said as he clued in to what she was asking. ‘Yeah, I’ll go get some juice.’

‘Come on, sweetie’ Moira said, leading Hope to the nearby washroom.

Although Hope was toilet trained and hardly ever had accidents in the daytime, she still wore pull-ups to avoid wetting the bed at night and the young woman helped her remove her pyjama bottom, noticing the pull-up was soaking wet.

‘Is this what woke you up, huh?’ she asked softly as Hope stepped out of the wet diaper and onto the toilet.

‘Poppa…’ Hope repeated quietly, her lip quivering.

‘Poppa went out for a little while with your mommy but they’ll be back soon’ Moira reassured her. ‘Here, let’s get you a clean pull-up.’

‘Hope want Poppa’ the child insisted.

‘Tell you what… why don’t you come downstairs with me and Scott and we can watch television while we wait for your mommy and daddy?’

Hope nodded and a small smile appeared on her lips.

‘Come on’ Moira said as she picked up the child and felt her curl up in her arms.

WCWCWC

‘I don’t know about you guys, but I’m exhausted’ Jim said as he slipped into the restaurant booth next to his wife.

They were hungry and tired after a surprisingly demanding workout and Neal had suggested they all get a bite to eat before heading home. It wasn't often he and Sara made new acquaintances considering their busy lives and it was nice to have a conversation with another couple their age.

‘Well, I’m starved’ Jenny added, rubbing her protruding belly.

‘I’m with you’ Sara agreed as she grabbed for the menu and began to look it over.

In no time, the foursome was settled in front of copious amounts of breakfast food despite the fact it was 11:00 at night.

Jenny sat in front of a stack of blueberry pancakes, pouring maple syrup as her husband snuck a quick bite off her plate.

‘Hey Jimbo, get out of my business’ she said playfully as she gave him a good-hearted shove. ‘If you wanted pancakes, you should have ordered pancakes.’

He returned to his omelet and toast, one hand on his wife’s belly. ‘You’re gonna give birth to a thirty pound baby if you keep this up’ he commented jokingly.

‘I _love_ breakfast for dinner’ Sara said as she grabbed a piece of bacon off Neal’s plate and gobbled it up.

He shook his head and glanced over at Jim, sitting across from him and grinning widely.

‘Sara, that dress of yours is incredible. Where did you get it?’ Jenny asked, her face animated.

Sara grinned proudly; as expected she’d been the best dressed woman in the dance class - if not the most competent.

‘It was an anniversary gift from Neal’ she confided, taking her husband’s arm and leaning in against him.

‘I want one just like it’ the woman said. ‘Where did you get it Neal?’

‘Well, you’re not going to find one like it in any store’ he began as Sara piped up.

‘Neal’s an artist, he painted it himself’ she said with pride, running her hand over the intricate artwork.

‘An artist?’ Jenny repeated, curious. ‘You guys _are_ full of surprises.’

Neal looked away self-deprecatingly. ‘Oh, he is, believe me’ Sara said mysteriously.

‘So, tell us more about your daughter’ Jim asked, his mouth full.

Both Neal and Sara smiled widely.

‘She’s…’ they both said at the same time as they looked at each other and started to laugh.

‘… amazing’ Neal continued.

‘… and exasperating’ Sara added.

Neal nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s about it. Amazing _and_ exasperating!’

The young couple across from them leaned in, listening intently.

‘Let me tell you’ Sara began with a twinkle in her eye. ‘When your beautiful, sweet baby turns two years old… I suggest you head for the hills.’

‘Oh no!’ Jim said with a worried look.

Neal gave Sara a look of exasperation. ‘It’s not that bad. She’s just going through a phase where she wants to do everything by herself and her favourite word is ‘no’. Let’s just say, it’s been a little challenging lately’ he admitted.

He saw the look of worry in the young couple’s eyes and continued. ‘But it’s temporary… and it’s worth it, isn't it, honey?’ he said looking fondly at Sara.

‘It is’ she agreed. ‘Neal is amazing with her, he’s the one who’s home during the day.’

Jim piped up, his eyes excited. ‘See Jenny, there are lots of stay at home dads’ he said as she rolled her eyes.

This was obviously a hot button issue for the couple and Neal watched the interaction in their body language.

‘I would love to stay home with the baby but Jenny thinks… well, that it’s more of a woman’s role’ he admitted sheepishly.

‘I think that totally depends on the couple… and their circumstances’ Neal opined as he dipped his toast in his egg yolk and gobbled it up.

‘In our case, it just made sense. Sara had the better paying job and I… well, I was between jobs’ he added, not willing to provide any more details.

‘I agree’ Jim said. ‘Jenny works as a book editor and she loves her job.’

Jenny looked over at Sara and shrugged. ‘It’s true. I hate to think about leaving my job - even for a few months. What do you do, Sara?’

‘I work in insurance recovery’ she answered as Neal looked at her affectionately.

‘Best insurance investigator you’ll ever meet’ he added as he reached over and rubbed her back.

‘Sounds really glamorous’ Jenny said.

‘Try dumpster diving for clues someday’ Sara said with a laugh.

‘You’ll see’ Neal chimed in. ‘Having a baby is a real game changer. It changed everything for us, didn't it Repo?’

Jim’s face lit up. ‘Oh, I get it - ‘repo’ - repossession… is that where that came from?’

‘You got me’ Neal answered with a grin.

He felt a sudden muscle spasm in his toes and he cringed. Seven more weeks to go.

WCWCWC

The house was dark and quiet when Neal and Sara finally made it home. From the soft drone of the television, they assumed Scott and Moira had fallen asleep in front of the idiot box and that Hope was snoozing in her bed. But what they did find as they entered the family room was their daughter, sandwiched between Scott and Moira as the three of them snored on the couch.

They exchanged furtive glances and smiled at the sight of their daughter, clutching her pink elephant, Moira’s arm around her and Scott with his head dropped back and his mouth open as he snored softly.

Sara stepped in closer and the movement startled Moira whose eyes opened and she looked around, momentarily confused.

‘Sara… hi’ she groaned as Scott’s eyes opened.

‘Everything okay?’ Sara asked as Neal looked on.

‘Yeah, she woke up, asking for you and she needed to go to the bathroom’ Moira explained. ‘She was a little sad so I thought we’d let her cuddle with us down here.’

Scott was coming to and he looked from Neal to Sara. ‘She’s amazing with kids’ he croaked as he pointed to his new girlfriend.

Neal stepped in and jostled Hope gently. ‘Hey, sweet pea’ he murmured as her eyes drifted open and her arms reached out for her daddy. 

‘Poppa’ she moaned, settling in his arms and immediately drifting back off to sleep.

‘I’ll be right back’ he whispered, heading for the stairs.

Sara looked from Scott to Moira, unsure if she should be inviting Moira to spend the night. She was certainly welcome to stay but Sara wasn't quite sure where they were at in their relationship and there really was only one extra bed in the house.

Before she got around to asking the awkward question, the young redhead was on her feet, gathering her things.

‘I’ve got to get going’ she said, turning to Scott. ‘I’ve got an early class in the morning.’

Suddenly, Sara felt like a fifth wheel and she glanced towards the staircase. ‘Well, I’m going to go up… and check on Neal. Thanks so much for watching Hope for us, we really appreciate it’ she said as she slunk back, preparing to give the two of them a few moments alone.

Neal was just stepping off the stairs on his way back down and Sara turned to face him, giving him a head nod towards the staircase and taking him by the shoulders.

‘Goodnight’ she said, pointing Neal towards the stairs and giving him a pat on the bum as an incentive to move on.

Neal frowned at his wife.

‘Make sure to lock up!’ he called over his shoulder as Sara pushed him up the stairs.

Scott laughed and shook his head, turning to face Moira. His hand went to her face and he brought his lips to hers as she kissed him back, her lips soft and warm.

‘Thank you… for everything’ he said cryptically as she giggled.

‘You’re welcome… for everything’ she responded.

He brought his arm up around her shoulder and walked her to the front door and out to her old beat up Volkswagen Rabbit which had seen better days. They stood for a moment by the car door as she prepared to leave, their lips still unwilling to part and say goodbye.

WCWCWC

Sara stepped out of the washroom and into their bedroom, looking for Neal - without success. A quick peek into Hope’s room revealed her daughter sound asleep with her thumb firmly planted in her mouth but still no Neal. That left only one place and she stepped into Neal’s darkened studio noticing his silhouette as he peeked out from behind the curtain onto the street below.

‘Neal Caffrey!’ she called out as he startled. ‘You snoop! What do you think you’re doing?’

His eyes returned to the front of the house and she tiptoed over to join him, pulling back the curtain to see what had him so enthralled.

He pulled her hand away. ‘Don’t do _that!_ ’ he whispered loudly. ‘They’ll see you.’

She leaned in to look out over his shoulder, accidentally stepping on Neal’s aching toes in the process.

‘Ouch!’ he whispered loudly, giving her a look of pure exasperation and he immediately returned to spying on his protégé out in the driveway, locking lips with his paramour.

‘They’re saying goodnight…’ he said rather unnecessarily, a dreamy look on his face.

Sara rolled her eyes. For all his cool, calm and collected exterior, Neal could be such a busybody at times.

‘Is this what you’re going to do when Hope comes home from a date in ten years?’ Sara giggled.

‘Ten years? Better make that twenty - or better yet, thirty!’ he said, eyes still glued on the young couple snogging by Moira’s car.

‘Come on, Romeo’ Sara said, pulling Neal away from the window. ‘That’s enough. Give them a little bit of privacy.’

He groaned and reluctantly let himself be led away.

‘She looks like a good match for him’ he commented as he stepped into their bedroom and reached for a pair of sleep pants.

‘She’s very sweet’ Sara agreed, slipping out of her dress and into a pair of yoga pants. ‘And she seems really good with Hope.’

Neal nodded and fell into bed as they heard the sound or the front door opening and closing in the distance.

‘So…’ Sara murmured as she followed suit and curled up next to him. ‘Jim and Jenny are really nice, huh?’

‘Yeah. Very friendly’ Neal agreed.

‘Did you know they used IVF for her pregnancy?’ he added as Sara looked over skeptically at him. 

‘Really? How do you know that?'

‘He told me… while you were in the bathroom’ Neal admitted with a sly smile.

‘We were gone for all of three minutes’ Sara remarked, eyes narrowing.

Neal shrugged; he couldn't help it if he had a face people liked to confide in.

‘Jim said it cost them a fortune but…’ Neal explained as he brought his lips to Sara’s forehead. ‘It’s something to think about, I guess.’

‘What do you mean…think about?’ Sara asked, frowning. ‘For us?’

‘I don’t know…’ Neal began, his face serious. ‘If we have trouble… you know.’

‘Neal, we haven't even gotten the green light from Dr. Franklin to start trying yet’ Sara whispered in the darkened room.

‘I know… I’m just saying’ he responded, moving to face her and cringing in pain as his toes hit the edge of the bed.

‘Owwww!’ he grumbled.

‘What is it, honey? Your feet?’ Sara asked, frowning with empathy.

‘Uh, uh’ Neal answered with an exaggerated pout and an over the top eyelash flutter.

Sara sat up and moved to the foot of the bed, pulling back the duvet to reveal Neal’s feet, noting how his toes were red and swollen.

‘Oh, baby… I’m sorry’ she cooed. ‘Did I do this to you?’

‘It’s okay’ he said, pretending to rise above yet playing it for all it was worth.

Sara’s hands began to massage Neal’s tired feet as he let out a groan of appreciation.

‘Awwww… that feels great, babe’ he moaned as he settled back on the bed, closing his eyes.

After a few moments, Neal squirmed on the bed. ‘And maybe rub my legs… they’re really sore too’ he added with a whimper.

Sara frowned but did as he asked, the sounds of pure bliss growing louder at the head of the bed.

‘A little higher…’ he pleaded as she rolled her eyes and let her hands flutter over his knees and onto his thighs.

‘A little more…’ Neal murmured, eyes closed as he stretched out on the bed thoroughly enjoying the relaxing body massage and responding to the sudden flutter in the pit of his stomach.

She could see where this was headed and she gave him a playful slap on the hip as Neal recoiled in protest.

‘Hey!’ he complained. ‘That wasn't very nice. I let you walk on by toes all night.’

She covered him up and returned to his side, slipping back under the blankets.

‘You’re incorrigible, Neal Caffrey’ she said with a crooked grin.

‘You can’t blame a guy for trying’ he responded with a sparkle in his eyes.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Neal sat at his kitchen table in front of the strange looking contraption, his mouth hanging open, his eyes bright with excitement.

‘Moz, where did you _get_ this thing?’ he asked, amazed at what lay before him.

Mozzie looked on proudly; he had the uncanny ability of ferreting out gizmos, gadgets and contraptions that came in handy for, shall we say, those who spent most of their time on the fringe of the law.

‘It’s a prototype - I was able to fabricate it from everything we know about the Lorus 848’ Mozzie answered, matter-of-factly.

Neal’s animated eyes moved to look at his friend whose creativity never ceased to amaze him.

‘You _made_ this thing? Moz, that’s amazing’ Neal said, his fingers itching to get started.

The small box before him was connected to a battery power source by a series of brightly coloured wires - a prototype of the security system presently being used at the Nicole Stinson Gallery in Manhattan.

‘If you manage to disarm it, you’ll hear the theme from Oceans Eleven’ Mozzie said with pride. ‘But if time runs out… well, I didn't want to upset Hope with a loud buzzer so I programmed it with a little song she likes instead’ he informed his friend. 

Neal gave him a devious eyebrow wag. ‘What makes you think I’m going to set it off?’

‘You’re good, Neal… one of the best but I’m warning you, this one’s a tough nut to crack. They’ve put in some additional safeguards so, be patient’ he admonished.

Neal gave him a cocky glare; he hadn't met an alarm system he couldn't disarm - with the proper tools and enough time - of which they didn't have a helluva lot if they didn't want the NYPD showing up before Goldberg had his hand decisively in the cookie jar.

‘I’ve set the timer for 44 seconds which is one less second than Lorus has used on all its previous models. I’d be surprised if they’d set the timer any lower but that’s the only part I don't know for sure. You can set the timer all the way down to 30 seconds if you’re feeling really confident’ Mozzie added.

Neal checked out the timer, noticing the options Mozzie had just described.

‘Oh, and this is the reset button’ Mozzie explained as he pointed to a small button on the back of the contraption. ‘Just reconnect everything the way it was and press here and you can start again.’

‘Moz, I can't thank you enough for this’ Neal said as he looked up at the little man who’d always had his back. ‘I really appreciate you doing this.’

Mozzie shrugged. He lived for this kind of stuff and working with Neal on a ‘project’ - even one sanctioned by the FBI - was exciting and made his sometimes boring existence worthwhile. Since Hope’s birth, his relationship with Neal had evolved in ways Mozzie didn't always find easy to deal with. Not that he was bitter about Neal leaving the life behind and settling down. If anything, he was rather envious that his ex-partner in crime had been able to make the leap from conman extraordinaire to life on the other side of the law. Somewhere deep inside, Mozzie understood the allure of having a family to come home to, a place where you could be yourself without fear of judgement. He’d dreamed of such a life for himself since he was a kid and to some extent, Neal and Sara had fulfilled that dream by welcoming him into their extended family.

But he missed the days when he and Neal had travelled the globe in search of new adventures, thumbing their nose at convention and living in the moment without a second thought for the consequences of theirs actions. Now, Neal had to think ahead to the future - to his daughter’s future and he needed to honour the commitment he’d made to Sara when he'd joined his destiny to hers on that sunny summer afternoon in June’s garden.

Altruistic motivations aside, Mozzie had yet another reason to comply with the restrictions of his new and improved relationship with Neal: the wrath of Sara Ellis. The insurance investigator had made her expectations clear to Mozzie on the day she’d married Neal Caffrey. She’d taken him aside and in her unique and badass style, she’d looked him straight in the eye and drawn that line in the sand. Mozzie had her blessing to continue his decades long friendship with Neal but he was not, under any circumstances, to influence Neal to return to the life nor was he to involve him directly in any of his schemes. Mozzie had readily agreed to the arrangement. After all, his friendship with Neal was worth it and now, two years later, they all seemed to have found a place where they could co-exist peacefully, to everyone’s benefit.

Neal opened the gizmo, peering inside; it was a maze of wires connected to a circuit board, more complex than anything he'd ever had to work with before.

‘Now don’t forget, it’ll be hooked to their wifi, so when you’re in front of the real thing, you have to start by disconnecting the source’ Mozzie reminded him as Neal nodded in understanding.

‘So… do you want to give it a try?’ Mozzie asked, on the edge of his seat.

Neal’s eyes sparkled. ‘Yeah!’

Mozzie gave him a nod, inviting him to get started while Neal rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

The ticking sound of the timer was heard and Neal’s eyes narrowed. He focussed his attention on the device and, summoning all the knowledge he’d acquired over the years, he got to work, expertly disconnecting the red wire, followed by the blue then the green. He was about to move on to the yellow wire when, to his surprise, the timer stopped suddenly and a loud click was heard followed by an annoying, mechanical version of ‘Mary had a little lamb.’

‘Seriously Moz?’ Neal whined as he rushed to press the reset button.

‘What? It’s one of her favourite songs’ Mozzie explained.

Neal reconnected the wires as he'd found them and took a deep breath as he reset the timer, revising his strategy. He carried on, despite his lack of success, once, twice, three times with the same result as Mozzie sat by and watched with interest.

He was on his thirteenth try, his frustration growing, when he heard a familiar voice wafting down the stairs.

‘Poppa!’ Hope’s sleepy voice was heard.

Neal’s eyes moved away from the new device. ‘I’ll be right there, Hope!’ he called out.

‘I should go’ Mozzie said as he stood. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

Neal nodded - it appeared the only thing he might be needing was a large serving of luck.

WCWCWC

‘Wittle lamb, wittle lamb, wittle lamb’ Hope chanted mindlessly as she sat, playing with her food.

‘Honey, stop singing and eat your lunch!’ Neal said, obviously irritated by her choice of ditties. 

He’d been working on Mozzie’s contraption all morning without success and Hope’s warbling was an unwelcome reminder that, thus far, he’d been unsuccessful. If he never heard the annoying tune again for the rest of his life, it would be too soon.

Hope looked up at her dad and whined. ‘No want carrot’ she complained with a pout.

‘Well, that’s what’s on your plate so eat it’ Neal snapped back, his tone impatient.

‘No!’ Hope said, squirming to get off her chair.

‘Hope Ellis-Caffrey, that’s enough. Finish your lunch!’ Neal insisted, his voice growing louder.

Hope glared at her dad, her face tightening.

‘No! No! No!’ she shouted as she grabbed the carrots from her plate and threw them on the floor with disdain.

Neal’s eyes widened at the gesture and he stood, calmly picking the carrots up off the floor and throwing them in the nearby garbage. He walked to the fridge and reached in for a fresh carrot. Without giving his daughter a glance, he stood at the kitchen island and began to chop it up into carrot sticks which he proceeded to place on her plate.

‘Hope’ he said, his voice serious. ‘Finish your carrot please.’

Hope stared back, her face darkening and this time she let her hand slide across the table sending the plate and the newly chopped carrot flying through the air and landing noisily on the kitchen floor. She slipped off the kitchen chair, agitated, and finally lost control, throwing herself on the floor, her legs and arms flailing as she began to cry loudly.

Neal let out an audible sigh; how had he let things escalate to this point? 

WCWCWC

‘Honey, come to bed’ Sara pleaded as she stood behind Neal and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He was sitting at the kitchen table in front of the blasted puzzle, still trying to crack it. The break-in was a mere twenty-four hours away and he was beginning to worry he wouldn't succeed in disarming it. If the alarm was triggered inside the gallery, the mission would have to be aborted and they would never collar Goldberg. But if he managed to disarm it, the theft would go ahead as planned and the Bureau would be able to catch Goldberg in flagrante delicto.

‘I _have_ to figure this out or the operation goes belly up’ he answered, focussed on the task before him.

The damn tune was heard echoing in the kitchen and Neal smacked his hand down on the table noisily, startling Sara in the process. ‘Damn it!’

‘Sorry…’ he mumbled, realizing the inappropriateness of his reaction.

‘Neal…’ Sara began as she slipped in between him and the table, settling in on his lap.

He tried to peer around her, eyes still on the prototype, but Sara blocked his view, forcing him to look at her instead.

‘Honey, it’s one in the morning and you’ve been at this all day. It’s time to come to bed’ she said, trying to be the voice of reason. ‘Whatever the solution, it’ll be a lot clearer in the morning.’

Neal let out a loud sigh of frustration and let his eyes settle on hers.

‘I blew up at Hope for absolutely no reason today’ he said, confessing what had been on his mind all day. ‘I was frustrated about _this_ and I took it out on her.’

Ever since the incident with Hope, he’d been feeling bad for letting things escalate to the point of a major meltdown in the middle of their kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for not reacting more calmly to the situation.

‘I’m sure you did your best, Neal’ she said, running her hand through his hair.

Her gentle touch seemed to bring him around and momentarily leave the insanity of the blasted mystery box behind.

He gave her a weak smile and she broadened hers in response. ‘C’mon Caffrey. Come to bed…I’ll give you a back rub… help you relax.’

‘Back rub, huh?’ he repeated, his voice rough. ‘Just a back rub?’

‘Whatever you need to help you fall asleep…’ she replied coquettishly.

He sighed, realizing he’d gotten himself all worked up and Sara felt his body relaxing against hers.

‘Sorry… I guess I’m getting a little carried away with this thing’ he admitted, his arms moving to encircle her waist.

‘Why don’t you come with me and we can both get carried away… upstairs’ she teased.

‘You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Caffrey’ he sighed, resigned.

Sara’s face grew serious. ‘You’ll figure it out, Neal. I know you will.’

He stood, scooping her up in his arms. ‘Just promise me… when we get upstairs, there won’t be any talk about lambs.’

‘Baaaaah’ Sara bleated with a wide grin.

WCWCWC

Neal woke, disoriented, the disturbing image of a field of sweet baby sheep ensnarled in brightly coloured plastic wires fresh in his mind. He sat up abruptly, letting out a gasp and Sara stirred next to him in response.

‘It’s okay, go back to sleep’ Neal whispered as Sara almost immediately dropped off once again.

When they’d made it up to bed, Sara had made good on her promise to give him a back rub and, as happened most times she ran her soft, probing hands all over his body, Neal had responded in predictable fashion. Their lovemaking had been a pleasant distraction which had succeeded in taking his mind off his woes, allowing him to fall asleep without much difficulty.

Now, he was wide awake again and his mind returned to the alarm system he couldn't quite manage to tame. He lay on his back, going over the many assumptions he'd made in his numerous attempts at cracking it. His initial instinct was to head back downstairs and continue working on the puzzle but he resisted - mostly because Scott was asleep in the nearby family room. He tossed and turned for a good long time, going over the many inferences he'd made as he’d worked— _what_ was it he was missing? 

WCWCWC

The next time he floated back into consciousness, the sun was streaming into the bedroom and Neal became aware that it was much later than the time they usually got up. Sara should have been on the train to Manhattan by now but she was still in bed, curled up next to him and that, in and of itself, set off alarm bells.

‘Sara! Honey, wake up, we slept through the alarm’ he said with trepidation.

‘No alarm…’ she mumbled in response.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, glancing at the bedside clock. ‘It’s 7:30, wake up!’

‘Neal, I have that scan at the hospital at 11:00. I’m not going into the office until this afternoon’ she moaned, turning over and placing her pillow over her head.

Neal sat up in bed. He’d completely forgotten about the upcoming CT scan although he usually obsessed about all of Sara’s medical appointments.

‘Why didn't you remind me last night?’ he complained as he turned in bed and nestled behind her.

‘Don’t you think you’ve got enough on your plate today?’ she mumbled from underneath the pillow.

He removed the pillow from her face and he brought his mouth to her ear. ‘I’ll see if Scott can stay home with Hope so I can come with you.’

Sara turned in bed. She could see he wasn't about to leave it alone. ‘Neal, it’s a scan… I’m a grownup, I don’t need you for this.’

‘No!’ Neal answered adamant. ‘We go to _all_ your appointments together.’

‘Well, not this one’ she said, sounding slightly annoyed. ‘Neal, it’s a routine scan, I’ve had lots of them and I’m going to have a lot more. I’d much rather have you come with me when we see the doctor for the results, okay?’

‘But…’ he began, unease welling up inside him.

‘No, buts!’ she insisted. ‘You’ve got enough to deal with today. Now, can we enjoy the last few minutes of peace before Hope comes charging in here?’

‘You sure?’ he asked, still uncertain.

She was about to answer when they heard the familiar footsteps of Hope running down the hall and the door to their bedroom flew open.

‘Poppa! Pancakes!’

WCWCWC

‘Mozzie is a genius, isn't he?’ Scott remarked as he examined the intricate gadget on the kitchen table.

Neal reached into the fridge for the milk, topping up Hope’s glass as she sat there nibbling at a short stack of blueberry pancakes. 

He took a seat between Scott and his daughter. ‘He never ceases to amaze me.’

‘So… this wire here… it would be connected to the wifi, right?’ Scott asked.

‘Yeah, and normally, if you disconnect these coloured wires in a certain sequence, you can disarm the alarm’ Neal explained as he pointed to the innards of the contraption.

‘Normally?’ Scott repeated with a glimmer in his eye.

‘This is the most recent model and they’ve made some… improvements to keep guys like you and me from disarming it’ Neal said woefully.

‘Can I give it a try?’ Scott asked.

Neal reached over and lifted Hope out of her chair, preparing to take her up to get ready for he day. 

‘Knock yourself out, kid’ he said. ‘Just remember to rewire it each time and press this reset button.’ 

WCWCWC

‘So, which t-shirt do you want to wear today, sweet pea? This one or this one?’ Neal asked as he held up a couple of different colour tops.

He was exhausted from his poor night’s sleep and it was going to be a long day - and night - but he was determined not to take his bad mood out on his innocent baby girl.

‘Blue!’ she said as she hopped around from one foot to the other, bubbling with unspent energy.

Neal put away the pink shirt as Hope began fussing. ‘No, no. Blue, Poppa, blue!’ she repeated.

‘This one?’ he asked as he held up the pink t-shirt with a panda across the chest.

She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Panda’ she said with glee.

‘This is pink, baby, not blue’ Neal explained as he sat on the edge of her bed, helping her step into the shorts he’d laid out for her. ‘Just like Elephant is pink.’

‘Blue’ she shouted emphatically.

‘All right, all right, let’s call it blue - just for today’ Neal said with a gentle smile, unwilling to argue.

‘Park?’ Hope asked hopefully as Neal pulled the shirt over her head.

‘Sure, we could go to the park today’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘Maybe we could see if Olivia wants to come along.’

His mind was in overdrive. As much as he wanted to spend time with his daughter, the clock was literally ticking away and he had just a few hours to master the secret of Moz’s mystery box. Maybe he could impose on Scott to take her out for a while so he could spend some time trying to unlock its secret. 

‘Music!’ Hope shouted as she began to dance around.

Neal snapped out of his reverie, noticing the soft theme from ‘Ocean’s Eleven’ floating up the stairs.

‘What the —’ he muttered, under his breath.

He took off like a bat out of hell, Hope following on his heels and he arrived at the top of the staircase, the monotonous yet unmistakeable tune definitely coming from the kitchen below.

He took the stairs two at a time, slowing briefly at the bottom to shout out his usual admonition to Hope who was preparing to follow him down.

‘Come down on your bum’ he called out.

The music was still playing when he arrived in the kitchen out of breath, catching sight of Scott staring down at the gadget with a stunned look on his face.

‘You did it!’ Neal shouted as he got closer.

Scott’s eyes moved to look at his mentor, his mouth hanging open.

‘I suppose I did’ he stammered.

‘How? How’d you do it?’ Neal demanded, taking a seat next to him.

Scott glanced at the sheet of paper where he’d been jotting down each sequence he’d attempted during his twenty or so tries at the mystery box.

He began to stutter, looking at the notes. ‘I… I started with the two reds and… then this blue wire and then…’

Neal listened attentively, he’d tried every conceivable combination and yet had not managed to solve the puzzle.

‘What about those two?’ he asked, pointing to the two red wires he’d thought all along were the key to finishing the sequence.’

‘Yeah, I finished with those…’ Scott murmured as he checked his notes.

‘But I’ve tried this combination at least a dozen times’ Neal murmured as he looked down at the sheet of paper.

Unbeknownst to the two men, Hope appeared and gave them a passing glance as she made her way into the family room and settled in front of a puzzle of her own, dumping the pieces on the small table and getting to work on putting it back together.

Neal began to reconnect the wires and as he did, the mechanical tune stopped. He hit the reset button and looked at Scott expectantly.

‘All right, do it again. While I’m watching you this time’ he said breathlessly.

Scott gave him a worried look. Maybe he’d accidentally come across the solution and would not be able to duplicate his feat. Neal watched him like a hawk as he reached over, running his finger underneath the motherboard and proceeded to disconnect the first of the wires.

‘Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait’ Neal said, eyes narrowing. ‘What did you just do there?’

Scott looked up at him nervously. ‘I… I just flicked the little switch under the motherboard to short the connections’ he replied tentatively.

Neal’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. ‘There’s a switch under the motherboard?’ he said.

‘Yeah, it’s the way they’re building the new circuit boards - it's a new security feature... a micro chip they attach to the main circuit and you need to disconnect it before you do anything else’ he explained as Neal’s face lit up.

Scott continued with his explanation. ‘It’s new… we learned about it in class. All new computers are going to start using this technology now.’

Neal smiled in relief. ‘Keep going’ he said as Scott’s fingers returned to the wires, following the carefully noted sequence he’d tried moments before.

It took but a moment and the movie theme was heard playing once again to Neal’s joy and relief.

‘Scott!’ he shouted, patting the young man’s back. ‘You did it! You cracked it!’

Neal immediately turned the box to face him as his eyes searched. ‘Here, let me try.’

‘See? Right here’ Scott pointed. ‘Just run your finger under here and you’ll feel it. Just push it forward.’

Neal’s nimble fingers searched for the small protrusion, finding it immediately now that he knew what he was looking for. 

‘Time me’ he said as he began to work away at the wires in the sequence he’d become familiar with.

‘Thirty-eight seconds’ Scott called out as the first few notes of music were heard.

The two men looked at each other with large grins and Hope came over to see what all the fuss was about.

‘Want wittle lamb’ Hope moaned as she stood next to her dad and began tugging on his shirt sleeve.

‘No more little lamb, baby… but I’ll sing it for you if you want’ Neal replied as he threw her up in the air.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

The medical technician gave a few last minute instructions to Sara and she nodded in understanding. This was hardly her first rodeo - or her first pelvic CT scan. She settled in for the short ride, taking deep breaths as she recalled why she was doing this… again! She was barely six months into five long years of regular follow-ups and she prayed that this time around, the results would be clear. She thought back to the outcome of her first scan, shortly after Christmas. Everything had looked good and she and Neal had breathed a sigh of relief that her horrible cancer adventure was finally over.

Alas, they’d been wrong.

Now, she was back to the kind of agonizing uncertainty that lingered in the back of your mind without reprieve, no matter what you were doing. It followed her wherever she went and whatever she was doing. It appeared unexpectedly while she was enjoying a meal with her family or when she was sitting in a meeting or curled up reading Hope a bedtime story, even when she was making love to her wonderful husband. It was the kind of cloud that followed you around and made everything a little less bright, a little less cheery and carefree. It threw a pall over her uncertain future, leaving her wondering what life had in store for her.

She heard the buzzing sound of the table moving forward and the soft humming as the rotating x-ray device began to scan her body. It was over in a few instants and she was instructed to get dressed. The die was cast and the results would soon follow.

WCWCWC

Neal sat in the car, eyes trained on the main door of the Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center as he checked the comings and goings. He gave his watch another quick glance. If this was like every other time Sara had a scan, she should be leaving the hospital any minute now on her way back to work. He regretted not having followed his intuition and come to the appointment with her; work should never come first, no matter the stakes. 

Sara was right. It _was_ just a routine test but regardless, they were in this horrible, never-ending adventure together and they needed to _stick_ together, no matter what. He glanced at the basket containing the lunch he’d prepared, sitting next to him on the passenger seat of the car. Hopefully she’d have time for a quick bite before heading back to Sterling Bosch.

He finally spotted her, looking her beautiful, elegant self in a sleeveless turquoise summer dress, her signature heels making her look so much taller than her five foot seven frame. She looked fearless, her head held up high, her face intent and resolute. Anyone seeing her walk down the street would assume she was invincible, that she could face just about anything but Neal knew better. He’d seen her, exhausted and weak from her chemo treatments, he'd rubbed her back while she emptied her stomach over and over as the poison left her body, he’d held her in his arms as she grieved the loss of their unborn baby, terrified that the cancer would win out. But none of that could ever diminish the respect he had for this woman - quite the contrary. She was strong in ways Neal could never have imagined and more importantly, she was a survivor.

He put the car in gear and inched forward, following her as she made her way towards the taxi stand.

‘Need a ride, lady?’ he called out from the open car window as he caught up to her.

‘Neal!’ she shouted, her face relaxing. ‘What are you doing here?’

He gave her a bright smile and she jogged the last few steps towards the car - how she did that in four inch heels he would never understand. The grin on her face told him all he needed to know; she was glad to see him, perhaps even relieved. She stepped into the car, moving the lunch basket to rest at her feet.

Neal leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek as her smile lingered.

‘You _are_ full of surprises’ she said as he shrugged demurely.

‘I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to grab lunch before you go back to the office so I threw something together for us’ he explained, pulling out of the hospital grounds and into traffic.

‘I’m starved’ she said. ‘I was going to grab a sandwich at work but this is so much better.’

‘I found a little park nearby where we could sit and eat if that’s okay’ he suggested.

Within fifteen minutes, they were sitting on a park bench in a little enclave of calm and tranquility in the middle of Manhattan with a brimming lunch basket tucked in between them

‘Croque-monsieur!’ she exclaimed as she dug into the basket and helped herself to one of the gourmet sandwiches. ‘When did you have time to make this and why aren't you home trying to figure out the secret of the mystery box?’

Neal looked at her, seemingly ill at ease. ‘Scott helped me figure it out…’ he admitted. ‘But I shouldn't have let that stop me from coming with you in the first place. Nothing is more important than you, certainly not a gallery heist.’

She looked into his bright blue eyes, squinting in the sun. ‘Neal, I told you I was fine. I understand that this is the job and you have to be ready for tonight. God knows how many times I’ve been late for dinner or cancelled plans with you because of work.’

Neal hesitated for a moment before responding. ‘That’s just it, babe. _Nothing_ is more important that this… you and me… us. I should have been there this morning.’

Sara gave him a reassuring smile and leaned in to kiss him. ‘Well, you’re here now’ she said. ‘And I’m glad you are.’

They grew quiet as they enjoyed their meal, Neal filling their glasses with bubbly apple cider.

‘I’ve been meaning to apologize for the other night’ he said out of the blue. ‘I don’t know why I said what I said about IVF.’

Sara turned to face him and ran the back of her hand against his cheek. ‘That’s okay. I know how you feel about having another baby and you know how much I want that, too… I just don’t think we should think too far ahead. It’s still early days.’

‘You’re right’ he said with a naughty twinkle in his eye. ‘Maybe there’s still time for that baseball team I’ve always dreamed of having.’

Sara gave him a good-natured shove. ‘We _never_ agreed on a baseball team, Caffrey. Maybe a polo team…’ she laughed good-naturedly.

‘All right, all right… a polo team. I can live with that’ Neal said soberly. ‘… as long as you’re here and you’re healthy, that’s all that’s important.’ 

Sara lifted her glass in a toast. ‘To the Ellis-Caffrey polo team then’ she said. ‘Now, eat up. I need to get back to the office.’

WCWCWC

Neal sat at the conference table in the Federal Building, looking somewhat out of place amongst the group of suits. He was wearing his cat burglar attire as he prepared to take an active part in the theft of some valuable pieces of modern art from a Chelsea art gallery. The blueprint of the Nicole Stinson Gallery and the surrounding streets was spread out on the table and Peter leaned over the plans, pointing to the three entrances to the gallery.

‘So, do you know where you’ll be entering?’ he asked Neal.

‘Jeremy is supposed to leave this back door unlocked when he leaves at 10:00 so we’ll go in through here’ Neal explained, pointing.

Clinton Jones appeared, holding a communication device. ‘Here’s your watch, Caffrey’ he said as he handed it to Neal.

Neal immediately put it on his wrist and Peter pointed to the wedding band which Neal had neglected to remove. ‘You might want to take that off’ he suggested.

Neal removed it, placing it deep into his jeans pocket for safekeeping. ‘Don’t want to lose that’ he murmured.

‘Is that the exit plan as well?’ Peter asked, returning to the discussion.

‘Yeah, there’ll be a van parked right here’ Neal explained.

‘So this section here is unsecured’ Peter explained to the rest of the group. ‘The alarm controls access to the inner gallery where the art is still hanging on the walls.’

Neal nodded. ‘Once I disarm the alarm, we can move in and start removing stuff and bringing it out to the van.’

‘How many of you are going in?’ Diana asked.

‘Me, Goldberg and his muscle’ Neal answered. ‘They’ll be carrying the stuff out to the van’ Neal answered.

‘Armed?’ she asked.

Neal nodded silently. It was his single worst fear; that bullets would be flying in both directions and he’d be stuck in the middle.

‘How many pieces is he targeting?’ Jones asked.

‘Six’ Neal answered, pointing to their various locations on the blueprint. ‘Most of them are in this front room here but the Rothko Goldberg _really_ wants is back here - and he wants me to take it out of its frame.’

‘So, we’ve got about seven minutes before NYPD reacts to the alarm being disconnected’ Peter explained. ‘Since it won’t be triggered, the protocol will be to get in touch with the owner before intervening in case it’s a false alarm. At least that’s what Neal told Goldberg.’

‘Has the NYPD been properly briefed?’ Neal asked. The last thing he needed to worry about was having to duck any flying bullets fired by the police department as well as the thugs and the FBI.

‘They’ll be on high alert but they won’t go in without Peter’s say so’ Diana answered as Neal nodded in relief.

‘We’ll be in the municipal van, positioned over here, a block over in the other direction’ Peter explained, pointing to the map.

‘What’s the takedown phrase?’ he asked, double checking with his best friend.

Neal didn't answer, staring off into space, seemingly concentrating on something.

‘Neal?’

‘What?’ he replied, snapping out of it and looking up.

‘The takedown phrase…’ Peter repeated with a tinge of worry in his voice.

‘ _This is Rothko’s best work_ ’ Neal parroted.

‘Good. All right people, let’s get set up’ he instructed as the group began to disband.

Peter grabbed Neal’s arm and held him back. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Neal? You seem distracted.’

‘Yeah… yeah, of course I am’ Neal said, giving him one of his fake smiles.

Peter sneered; that didn't work for him anymore. ‘I’m serious, Neal. If something doesn't feel right, you need to tell me now… and we’ll pull the plug.’

‘No Peter. I’m just… I’m anxious for this to be over with. Plus I want to make sure Scott can walk away from this without being dragged back to jail.'

Peter hesitated for an instant but he knew better than to try to convince Neal of anything once his mind was made up.

‘Just be extra careful, okay, buddy? When you get in there, try to find somewhere where you can take cover for when we come in. Just in case there are any flying bullets.’

Neal nodded and gave a feeble smile. ‘I better get going. I’m meeting up with them in an hour.’

And with that, Neal left the safety of the White Collar offices and headed out on his mission.

WCWCWC

‘Not again!’ Mozzie complained as he landed on Park Place for the third time.

Scott giggled at the older man’s reaction; to qualify Mozzie as a poor loser was to put it mildly.

The exchange went right over Sara’s head and she checked her watch once more, noting it was five minutes later than the last time she’d checked. She tried to get her head back in the game but her mind kept returning to Neal who was out there, somewhere in Manhattan, on a very dangerous mission. After two years of marriage, he still thought he could pull the wool over her eyes by minimizing the risk whenever he was called on to go undercover. But Sara knew all too well the dangers that were inherent in the kind of work Neal did when he went under for the FBI. As a matter of fact, she knew firsthand what was out there through her own work at Sterling Bosch.

She was a lot more careful these days, especially since she’d become a mom. But she was still a badass insurance investigator and she refused to back down from a challenge - which left her on very shaky ground when she dared to badger Neal about safety and danger. The main difference between the two of them was that Neal acted from the heart, his impulse control issues often leading him into very dangerous territory. She, on the other hand, was guided by her head - although it hadn't always ensured her safety in the past. She recalled how her ambition and pride had led her into a very dangerous encounter when she was a mere six weeks pregnant with Hope and how she’d woken up in hospital several hours later with a concussion and several broken bones.

But tonight, Neal was driven not only by his desire to put a criminal behind bars but by the hope that his actions would lead to freedom for Scott Rivers whom he had decisively taken under his wing.

Sara looked up, distracted by the argument between the two men. There was no doubt Scott was a great kid with plenty of potential and surely Neal saw much of himself in the young man. Neal had taken it on himself to give Scott a fighting chance at a good future before he sunk too deeply into the criminal element and ended up leaving his soul behind.

‘I saw that, Moz!’ Sara piped up as Mozzie picked up his cash after inching past the home square on the Monopoly board.

‘What?’ Mozzie asked innocently.

‘You took an extra couple of hundred dollars from the bank’ Sara stated unequivocally.

‘Did not!’ Mozzie lied, not terribly convincingly.

Scott sat by, chuckling at the exchange.

‘Let him be, Sara’ he said. ‘He’s in deep trouble and a couple of hundred bucks isn't going to get him out of the hole he’s dug for himself.’

Mozzie scoffed and turned his head away, not wanting to show the guilt (or perhaps the embarrassment) on his face.

Sara checked her watch once again; Neal was about to step into an art gallery and assist a dangerous thief in carrying out a daring heist.

She just wanted him home safely.

WCWCWC

The short three block trek from the subway to the rather unremarkable white van took about five minutes and Neal approached the vehicle cautiously, noticing Oscar sitting behind the wheel.

As was always the case whenever he went undercover, Neal was feeling a certain amount of trepidation, not due to performance anxiety, which Neal had conquered years before, but in anticipation of those tense moments surrounding the takedown. FBI stings required precision timing and absolute trust between Neal and the members of Peter’s team so that he could remain safe while they proceeded to arrest the perpetrator.

Back when he’d been in the game, Neal had thrived on being in total control of every aspect of a job, whether it was a long con or a quick heist. It had taken him a long time to fully trust Peter - after all, when he was undercover, he was vulnerable and it was his ass on the line, not his handler’s. But Peter had proven himself to be a reliable, trustworthy partner and these days, Neal knew without the shadow of a doubt that Agent Peter Burke had his back, every time.

Neal had to take into account that Peter and his crew were about a block away and would need a couple of minutes to get to the gallery so leaving it too late could result in Goldberg leaving the scene unmolested. If he gave the takedown phrase too early, they might not catch Goldberg in the act which was essential for an iron clad conviction. But above and beyond the timing of the takedown, Neal had an additional concern: he needed to stay out of the way when the FBI came charging in. An exchange of gunfire was not unusual during takedowns and he would find himself right in the line of fire unless he took care to stay out of the way.

Neal made his way to the back of the van and gave a decisive knock before opening the back of the windowless vehicle and stepping inside.

‘Right on time, Caffrey’ Jerome Goldberg said, sitting there next to his other henchman. He was dressed similarly to Neal, all in black, including a woolen cap, despite the warm June evening.

‘All right, Oscar.’ he called out. ‘Let’s roll.’

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

It was a short ride to the gallery and the three men sat in silence in the back of the oversized van, each lost in his thoughts.

For Jerome Goldberg, this was the culmination of weeks of preparation: following the coveted Rothko to NYC, casing the gallery, finding a reliable mole inside the exhibit, developing contacts in New York and finally, finding someone with the expertise to circumvent the alarm system. The whole thing had practically fallen apart at the last minute when his first accomplice had walked out on him and though he still had his doubts as to Neal Caffrey’s true motivations, he had no doubts as to his abilities to carry out the job.

He glanced at Neal out of the corner of his eye. If the guy _did_ double-cross him, he had a bullet with his name on it and he knew how to disappear without a trace. He’d had to do it in Houston three years before when a job had gone sideways. That time, he’d barely escaped with his life and he’d been out of commission for four months with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. But he’d survived and lived to steal another day. 

‘Are you carrying?’ Goldberg asked Neal, breaking the uneasy silence.

‘No’ Neal responded quietly.

Goldberg gave Floyd a head nod in Neal’s direction and the burly thug moved closer to the ex-con, giving him the pat-down while Neal sat there, motionless.

The large man looked over at his boss and shook his head.

Silence resumed and Neal used the last few minutes of transit to review the convoluted sequence he needed to carry out in order to disarm the sophisticated alarm system. He’d practiced until his fingers were sore and he was feeling equal to the task. He absent-mindedly touched his back pocket, feeling the tools he’d need to do the job as well as the special scalpel he’d brought along in order to remove the Rothko from its frame. He tried to recall the layout of the gallery, thinking ahead to the moment when he might need to get the hell out of the way of flying bullets. He felt the van slowing down and he glanced at his watch; it was just past 11:30, a little more than an hour and a half since the gallery had closed for the night.

The van came to a complete stop and Goldberg gave Neal one last look. It was too late to turn back now.

WCWCWC

Scott glanced to his right where Sara sat, her head drooping to one side, unable to keep her eyes open. She was exhausted but, thus far, she’d refused to go up to bed.

‘Sara…’ he said softly as she blinked.

‘What?’ she said, sitting up.

‘I can ask Neal to wake you up when he gets back if you want to go to bed’ Scott offered.

She was instantly on her feet.

‘No, thanks’ she said, shaking off the stupor. ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. Do you want something?’

Scott sighed and reached for the remote control, turning off the television set.

‘Sure, I’ll keep you company’ he replied as he followed her into the kitchen.

They worked in silence, Sara grabbing for the teabags and Scott for the mugs until the silence became unbearable and Scott spoke up, hoping to reassure Sara. ‘You know, Neal tells me Peter’s got his back. I’m sure he’ll be fine.’

Sara nodded silently; she had not doubt that Peter was there for her husband but she also knew that things could go south in the blink of an eye and that a bullet travelled at the speed of light.

‘Jones says Neal has a four leaf clover up his ass’ she volunteered with a sardonic laugh. ‘He’s always been lucky…’

Scott took the milk out of the fridge and placed it on the table. ‘But you’re afraid someday, his luck will run out?’

Sara shrugged and took a seat at the table. ‘I know how much Neal loves working with Peter and I never want to be the reason he has to stop’ she mused. ‘Plus, people in glass houses…. right?’

‘You’ve been in tough situations too, I guess… with _your_ job’ Scott said.

‘When I was first pregnant with Hope…’ Sara began cautiously, surprised at how easy it was to open up. ‘I went on a recovery in the garment district and the buyer had followed the fence to the swap and he’d brought along some muscle. When I moved in to recover the painting, the two men attacked me and… well, I ended up in the hospital with a concussion and a broken arm.’

‘You’re kidding!’ Scott exclaimed. ‘I had no idea insurance recovery was so cut-throat.’

Sara raised her eyebrows. ‘Neal was the one who found me. He hadn't wanted me to go alone in the first place but… I thought I knew better.’

‘But you still do the job?’ Scott asked, curious.

‘I do. But I’m a lot more careful than I used to be… and I tend to keep certain details from Neal if I don't want him following me around all day, every day.’

‘You two are the best’ Scott said wistfully. ‘I really appreciate you letting me stay here. I don't know what I would have done. I don’t have very many people to turn to now that my mom’s… gone.’

Sara smiled at the young man; he was really growing on her. ‘I’m sure she’d be proud of you, Scott… for trying so hard to stay out of trouble.’

‘That’s funny. That’s what Moira said.’

‘So you told her… about your time in jail?’ Sara asked.

Scott looked her in the eye, his voice growing serious. ‘I _really_ like her, Sara, and… well, I don’t want to get started on the wrong foot by withholding something like that from her.’

‘And… how did she react?’

‘She took it really well, surprisingly well, in fact. And I’m so relieved I told her.’

‘Secrets are poison in a relationship’ Sara stated unequivocally. ‘They destroy the trust you have in one another.’

‘You and Neal…’ Scott began. ‘… you’re pretty solid, huh?’

Sara scoffed. ‘Let’s just say, like all couples, we’re a work in progress. But most of the time, if we _do_ keep something from each other, it’s so the other one won’t worry. Never lie about the important stuff though or about how you’re really feeling. That’s the kiss of death.’

Scott nodded and an uncomfortable silence returned to the house as the waiting game resumed. The quiet of the house was suddenly interrupted by Hope’s cries coming from her upstairs bedroom.

‘Oh, great’ Sara said under her breath. ‘I’ll be right back.’

She headed up the stairs, her mommy radar on full throttle. There was the ‘pain’ cry, the ‘scared’ cry, the ‘wet pull-up’ cry and the ‘bad dream’ cry and two years into parenthood, Sara Ellis had developed the uncanny ability of distinguishing between all of them.

She stepped into her daughter’s bedroom, finding her sitting up in bed. She flicked on the light switch in an effort to help Hope get her bearings and she sat on the edge of her bed.

‘Honey?’ she said, running her hand though Hope’s hair. ‘What’s the matter? Did you have a bad dream?’

‘Momma…’ Hope moaned breathlessly as she threw herself into her mom’s open arms. ‘Bad doggy!’

Sara pulled her in against her chest, her hand gently caressing her back. ‘It’s okay, sweetie. It was just a bad dream’ she added, pulling her away momentarily so she could look into her eyes.

‘ _Big_ bad doggy’ Hope repeated, a little more meekly this time.

‘There’s no doggy here, sweetie. It’s just you and me. See?’ Sara said reassuringly.

‘Poppa?’ Hope asked, her eyes searching the room for her dad.

‘Daddy’s not home yet, sweetie, but he’ll be here soon’ Sara said, pulling her in tightly against her body. She could feel Hope starting to relax in her arms and she watched her thumb returning to her mouth, a sure sign she was settling down.

Sara held her, rocking her back and forth and waiting for her breathing to return to normal. After a few minutes, she attempted to set her back down on her pillow only to find Hope’s arm still tightly wound around her neck.

‘Noooo’ the child murmured softly, half asleep.

‘Do you want Mommy to lie down with you?’ Sara asked as her daughter nodded in silence.

‘All right’ Sara said settling her down and curling up against her. ‘I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.’

Hope was almost instantly asleep and regrettably, so was Sara.

WCWCWC

As promised, the young gallery clerk had arranged for the back door of the gallery to be left unlocked in order to expedite their entry. The door backed onto a small alley behind a strip of stores and shops, providing easy access for bringing in new merchandise as well as an out of the way spot for staff to grab a quick smoke. There was lighting all along the alley although Neal noticed that the floodlights pointing directly at the entrance to the Nicole Stinson gallery were both out - surely no coincidence.

Neal looked at his partner in crime and pointed to a security camera which was aimed directly at them.

‘Took care of that this afternoon’ Goldberg mumbled as they slipped into the back door of the gallery, followed by Floyd, gun in hand.

Neal looked nervously in the man’s direction and glanced back at Oscar who’d stepped out of the van and was pacing back in forth, his hand on his weapon. The burly man had been assigned the job of lookout and Neal’s blood pressure shot up a notch, realizing that there was no way Peter and the crew would be able to get close enough without the thug seeing them coming. The alley was narrow and ran the whole length of the block, backing onto about a dozen shops. There was only one way out for a car or van - at either end of the alley - and the Stinson gallery was about half-way down the block, an unfortunate location for someone wishing to sneak up on either side.

He weighed the option of warning Peter by commenting out loud about the access to the alley but he thought better of it. It would be too suspicious if he made such a comment so Neal chose to remain quiet, following Goldberg through the back door and into the gallery.

The back of the gallery consisted of a small prep area, an office and a washroom and it was separated from the main area by glass doors which were locked and connected to the alarm system. Goldberg hovered nearby as Neal got to work, holding a flashlight up so Neal could navigate the myriad of wires without setting off the alarm.

Neal worked calmly and efficiently, hoping he had a full forty-five seconds before the alarm sounded. He began by deactivating the wifi and slipping his finger under the motherboard, instantly finding the small switch and turning it off. Mozzie had done a terrific job with the prototype and Neal was relieved to find the assortment of wires looking just as he’d anticipated. He proceeded to disconnect them in the now familiar pattern he’d grown to know by heart. A green light flashed on the console, indicating that the alarm had been deactivated but both Neal and Goldberg knew it was a mere reprieve; no authorized code had been entered and the monitoring station at the local police precinct would begin the task of contacting the approved people on their list to see if all was well before heading out to investigate.

The men then turned their attention to the locked doors and Neal began to work his magic using his trusty lock pick set as Goldberg watched in admiration. If this guy _had_ gone straight - which Goldberg still suspected might be a possibility - it was a crying shame; he had steady nerves and exceptional talent, the likes of which Goldberg had rarely seen.

WCWCWC

‘Show me those plans again’ Peter said as the municipal van drove by the front of the gallery, casing the place.

‘I don’t see the small alley that was supposed to be halfway down the block’ he commented as Jones looked out onto the street.

‘It’s more of a sidewalk and it leads to the back of this place: Rosa’s Cantina’ Jones confirmed, pointing to the narrow pathway as they drove by.

‘Damn it!’ Peter said under his breath. ‘I was hoping we could get closer with the van… and I’ll bet you Goldberg has a lookout. There’s no way we can drive up behind their van without being spotted. We’re going to have to make our approach on foot, on this narrow path.’

Diana raised her hand, signalling to the rest of the crew to be quiet and Neal’s voice was heard, resonating in their ears.

_‘We have seven to eight minutes before NYPD shows up’_ they heard him say through their earbuds. Leave it to Neal to find a way to keep them in the loop and let them know he’d successfully dismantled the alarm.

‘All right, people’ Peter said as he stood. ‘Time to head out.’

‘I need two of you at either end of the alley’ he continued as he pointed to four of his men. ‘Diana, stay here and intercept NYPD and wait for my signal. _Don’t_ let them rush in. Jones, you’re coming with me. Let’s go.’

WCWCWC

‘Quiet!’ Goldberg said to Neal as he opened the door to the inner sanctum. He hadn’t appreciated Neal’s play by play; the excitement and anticipation was reaching its peak and he wanted quiet so he could concentrate.

Except for the dim picture lights over some of the works, the room was dark and the three men entered, getting their bearings. Goldberg hadn't been in the gallery since he’d first cased the joint, long before the exhibit had even started and Neal hadn't dared go back since he’d been made by Goldberg the week before, in case his mole reported back to the thief.

Goldberg walked through the gallery’s main room and pointed to a few smaller paintings as Floyd got to work removing them from the walls and setting them down on the floor. Neal’s eyes were all over the place as he got himself situated, looking for possible places he could take cover when the FBI finally came in, guns blazing. He knew that in a few moments, the relative calm of the gallery would morph into a veritable shit show - and Goldberg didn’t strike him as someone who gave up without a fight.

Goldberg pointed to another room, off to the side, silently instructing Neal to get started on the coveted Rothko. Neal nodded and stepped into the smaller room, immediately zeroing in on the painting. It was the centrepiece of the room, displayed in a large, cumbersome gold leaf frame and he couldn't help but take a few seconds to admire it. The artist’s earlier oil paintings, particularly his ‘Subway’ series were less abstract than his later works and were more to Neal’s liking. He’d forgotten how imposing this particular piece was, measuring almost four feet wide and three feet high - much larger still with the wide, imposing frame the gallery had chosen to display it in. It would have been cumbersome to carry out and Neal deposited the tube he’d brought at his feet while he reached for the tool which would help him dislodge the painting from its frame.

‘I’m about to desecrate this beautiful painting’ he murmured into his watch, taking advantage of the fact he’d been momentarily left on his own.

He had to go through with the charade although he knew all too well he was defiling this beautiful work of art by removing the excess canvas that surrounded the painting. There was not enough time to properly remove it from its frame and Neal carefully began the exercise of cutting it out as he felt Goldman lurking behind him.

‘Five minutes and twenty-eight seconds’ the man said as he checked his watch.

Neal was hard at work - he needed to go all the way. Once the painting was in Goldberg’s hands, he would be in possession of stolen goods, a charge that could be added to breaking and entering and the array of other charges he would be arrested for. 

They could hear noises coming from the other room as the two accomplices began removing paintings off the walls and carrying them out to the waiting van.

Neal continued with the delicate operation, holding his breath as he worked.

WCWCWC

Peter and Jones inched their way down the very narrow sidewalk in the dark, a pale light visible at the end of their path. Their only advantage was the element of surprise - the potential danger, Goldberg’s unpredictable reaction when he finally realized he was cornered. As long as Neal maintained his cover, everything would go down as planned; they would arrest all four men and book them, thus ensuring Neal’s safety.

Peter peeked around the corner, spotting the two thugs as they placed a framed piece of art in the back of the large van. He and Jones were about twenty feet away from the vehicle which faced the other way. Jones waited patiently for Peter to assess the situation as the two of them concentrated on what they could hear happening inside - a soft, rustling sound, presumably the large canvas being rolled up for transport.

Suddenly the soft rustling was interrupted by Neal’s voice, coming through loud and clear through their earbuds.

_‘In my opinion, this is Rothko’s best work_ ’ they heard him say.

Peter waited for a second, while the two thugs moved on to the next painting and once satisfied they were sufficiently distracted, he spoke into his walkie-talkie, his voice decisive.

‘Everybody move. Now!’ he shouted, stepping out from the shadows.

He and Jones came out of their hiding place, taking the two men by surprise and shouting at them to drop their weapons as two other agents appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the two thugs and neutralizing them.

WCWCWC

Neal handed the tube to Jerome Goldberg, watching as the man smiled, thoroughly pleased with himself.

‘Two minutes and fifteen seconds to spare. I’m impressed. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Caffrey’ he said as they prepared to rejoin their cohorts and make their getaway.

The two men made their way towards the glass doors, preparing to step out into the foyer when they became aware of a commotion right outside the back door. Goldberg reached for his gun and Neal looked around nervously; all he had to do was remain calm and let the Feds arrest him alongside Goldberg - unless the thief did something stupid and decided to try to shoot his way out.

To his horror, he watched as Goldberg raised his gun and, unbeknownst to Peter who was immediately in his field of vision, he cocked the gun as Neal panicked.

‘PETER! Careful!’ he shouted in warning as Goldberg’s face darkened and he turned to face Neal.

‘You son of a bitch! I knew you were too good to be true’ he said, seething as he pointed the gun in his direction.

Neal looked around frantically and, seeing he had nowhere to hide, he dove for the floor just as the gun went off.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

The untouched cup of tea grew cold and Scott began to suspect Sara wasn't coming back down to finish it anytime soon. He tiptoed over to the front of the house and leaned over the bannister.

‘Sara?’ he whispered loudly. ‘Sara? Is everything all right up there?’

Hope’s cries had subsided about ten minutes earlier and since then, he hadn't heard a peep from upstairs. He suspected Sara had fallen asleep next to her daughter - and who could blame her? It was past midnight and she’d been dragging herself around since after dinner. Worry had a way of gnawing at you and, considering the fact she wasn't at the top of her form, she was exhausted.

Scott teetered between returning to the kitchen or heading upstairs to check on her. She’d made it abundantly clear she wanted to stay up until Neal got home safely and he knew she would be pissed off if Neal called or came home and she was sound asleep and yet… letting her sleep for a little while couldn't hurt, he reasoned.

Upstairs, Sara’s body was totally relaxed as it curled up against the sleeping toddler. She was beyond tired and it had taken just a few seconds for her to slip into a deep sleep despite her resolve to wait up for Neal. She sighed as she dreamt of him returning safely to her arms.

WCWCWC

Peter and Jones watched in horror as Neal flew through the air and landed on the ground with a loud thud. Jerome Goldberg was still clutching his gun menacingly and he turned towards the ex-con, gun pointed straight at him with a look of anger and betrayal on his face.

‘You double crossed me, you son of a bitch’ he grumbled as he prepared to take another shot.

Neal’s eyes grew wild as he stared down the barrel of the gun, totally defenceless.

‘Drop the gun Goldberg!’ Jones shouted from a few feet away but the man ignored him and cocked his weapon, still aimed at Neal, and prepared to let off another shot.

Jones didn't hesitate for an instant and he fired, taking Goldberg totally by surprise. The gunshot rang out and Goldberg dropped his gun as the bullet hit him, his hand going to his shoulder as he cried out in pain. 

‘Not my goddamn shoulder again!’ he muttered as Jones closed in and grabbed him roughly, forcing his hands behind his back despite his injury.

‘Neal!’ Peter called out in total panic as he ran toward his best friend, lying on the ground androcking back and forth in obvious pain.

Neal lay there on his side, holding his arm against his body and breathing heavily and Peter crouched down beside him, doing his best to assess the situation.

‘Are you hit?’ he asked as Neal looked up at him, stunned.

‘No…’ he grunted loudly. ‘…but I… I did something to my arm’ he complained, unable to get himself up off the ground.

Suddenly, the place was crawling with agents and NYPD uniforms and Diana was by Peter’s side, helping Neal get to his feet.

‘Awww’ he moaned in pain, holding is arm tightly against his chest. ‘I fell on my arm… I think I might have broken something.’

Once on his feet, he spotted Goldberg being dragged off and he couldn't help but smile through the pain.

‘We got him’ he said to Peter, his voice rough.

‘Thanks to you’ Peter added with a look of concern. He held Neal up on his uninjured side to keep him from keeling over. ‘Come on, we need to get you checked out.’

Neal began to get his bearings and despite the pain in his left arm, he managed to dust himself off and put on a brave face.

‘I’m fine, Peter’ he lied. ‘It’s probably just a sprain.’

Peter gave him the evil eye. ‘No way, buddy. I’m getting you looked at… right now.’

‘Peter… really’ Neal said, lifting his left arm to show off, only to wince at the pain that shot up his arm and all the way down to his fingertips.

‘Yeah, right’ Peter responded sarcastically. ‘Diana, bring the van around. Neal and I are going to make a small detour on the way home.’

WCWCWC

‘Why the hell did they put me in this stupid hospital gown anyway’ Neal growled, thoroughly pissed off. ‘It’s so humiliating.’

Peter sat by his side in the emergency room, looking down at his best friend with relief as Neal lay squirming on the bed.

‘They said it was hospital policy. Plus, if you hadn't insisted on wearing that tight fitting cat burglar outfit of yours, they might have been able to examine you without having to cut you out of it’ Peter teased.

Neal scoffed and rolled his eyes. Now that they’d set his broken wrist, the pain wasn't quite as intense although he could still feel some throbbing all the way up his arm and down into his hand. Then, there was the painful contusion he’d suffered to his shoulder as he’d hit the ground; it was burning like hell as were the bruised ribs all along the left side of his body.

‘You took quite the tumble’ Peter commented, relieved to have Neal in his sights, safe and sound. He’d been terrified when he’d seen Neal take that dive - terrified the ex-con’s luck had finally run out.

‘I suppose it could have been a lot worse’ he added, his mind momentarily drifting to the unthinkable.

‘Thank God Quick-Draw was there to stop Goldberg in his tracks’ Neal agreed as he winced in pain. ‘I thought I was a goner when he pointed that gun in my face. Remind me to get coffee for Jones next time I’m visiting the office.’

Peter grew quiet; if it hadn't been for Neal’s desperate attempt to keep him from getting shot, he might have been the one lying there - or worse.

‘Thanks buddy…’ Peter said, his eyes locked on his best friend. ‘If you hadn't warned me, he wouldn't have suspected you were with us and he wouldn't have turned on you.’ 

Neal broke their gaze and shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. ‘You would have done the same thing for me’ he said, clearing his throat.

‘Did you manage to recover all the art?’ he asked, changing the subject and tugging at the annoying hospital gown.

‘Yup. And Goldberg and his muscle are in lock-up’ Peter said with a grin. ‘Washington’s already been on the phone to Reese congratulating us on the collar. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to do a debrief in the morning.’

Neal nodded in agreement but Peter could tell by the deep lines on his forehead that he was hurting.

‘How’s the pain?’ Peter asked.

‘Not bad’ Neal lied, unconvincingly.

One of the ER nurses appeared, as if on cue, carrying a large syringe. ‘Here you go, Mr. Caffrey.’ she said as she aimed the thing menacingly in his direction. ‘The doctor prescribed some pain medication for you.’

‘No…’ Neal moaned. ‘Tell her, Peter’ he griped before turning to address the nurse. ‘I really don’t do well with pain medication.’

‘Well, you’re not going to be doing well without it, I’ll tell you that. They had to manhandle you to put that cast on and it’s going to hurt like hell for a while and those bruises on your shoulder and your ribs don’t look like a walk in the park either’ she answered, totally ignoring him and plunging the syringe into his arm.

‘Can I go now?’ Neal asked, his voice impatient.

Sara would be going out of her mind with worry and with all the excitement, he hadn't even had the chance to call and let her know everything was all right - ‘all right’ being a relative term.

‘The doctor will be in to discharge you as soon as he gets a minute’ she answered as she walked out, leaving Neal and Peter alone.

‘I better call Sara and let her know… it’s all over’ Neal said, looking around for his clothes.

‘Do you want me to do it for you?’ Peter offered.

‘No’ Neal said decisively. ‘If you do it, she’ll think I’m incapacitated —’

‘Which you are’ Peter interrupted.

Neal gave him a death stare. ‘As I was saying…’ he repeated, slowly for emphasis ‘If you call her, she’ll think something’s wrong and she’ll come running down here. Is that what you want?’

‘Fine’ Peter relented as he went searching for Neal’s phone in those skintight black jeans he’d been wearing.

He located the phone and dropped the pants back on the chair, glancing back as he reacted to the sound of something pinging as it fell to the floor. Seeing nothing amiss, he passed the phone over to Neal who, incredibly, looked like he was already floating away to la-la land.

‘Here’ Peter said, handing over the phone and watching Neal’s face suddenly relax. ‘Try to keep it to the broad strokes, you know how she can get.’

Neal scowled at the comment. ‘She is _my_ wife, Peter’ he said, his voice already slurred from the pain meds.

Peter rolled his eyes; this is exactly what he’d feared. Drugged up Neal was sentimental Neal, effusive, talkative Neal and heaven forbid, crooning Neal and it was anybody’s guess whether he could pull off a brief, succinct telephone conversation under those circumstances.

The nurse returned briefly and Peter gave her a worried look. ‘Should he be reacting so quickly to what you gave him?’ he asked as Neal struggled with finding the speed dial button on his phone.

‘That stuff acts in fifteen to thirty seconds’ she said. ‘Why? Is there a problem?’

‘Not really’ Peter answered, thinking back to the few times he’d seen Neal under the influence of pain medication. ‘He’s just…’

The nurse looked over at Neal, smiling stupidly as he stared at his phone. ‘I see, he gets a little loopy? Euphoric?’ she commented with a knowing smile.

Peter shrugged. ‘Euphoric… That’s… that’s a good word for it’ he replied.

‘Well, it’s better than the kind of pain he was in’ she said with a grin as she prepared to leave once more. ‘Just keep an eye on him and let him enjoy the ride.’

‘Honey?’ Peter heard Neal slur as he held the phone upside down.

WCWCWC

The ringing of the phone reverberated throughout the house and Scott bolted off the couch where he’d been trying hard to stay awake - unsuccessfully. He made a run for the phone which sat on the kitchen counter in the hopes it wouldn't wake Sara but he immediately heard footsteps over his head and bare feet running down the stairs.

‘Hello?’ he said breathlessly into the phone.

‘Honey?’ he heard, recognizing Neal’s voice - although it sounded like it was echoing through a long, hollow tunnel.

‘Neal?’ Scott answered. ‘Are you all right?’

Sara appeared in his line of sight, her hair disheveled and her eyes wild.

‘Is it Neal?’ she asked as he passed her the phone and took a spot nearby at the kitchen table.

‘Thanks Peter’ Neal mumbled on the other end as Peter turned the phone right side up so he could use it properly.

‘Honey?’ Neal repeated a little too effusively.

‘Oh my God!’ Sara said, realizing this was not her clear-headed, self-possessed husband.

‘Honey, it’s me… Neal…Caffrey’ he said, totally unnecessarily.

Sara sank in the chair directly across from Scott and let out a nervous sigh of relief. Neal was alive and ‘well’ and from what she’d just heard him mumble, it sounded like Peter was with him.

‘Sara?’ Neal slurred.

‘I’m here Neal. Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘I’m great honey, sooo great….’ he stammered before his voice trailed off.

‘What happened? You sound so… cheery’ she asked.

Neal tried to stifle a giggle, unsuccessfully. ‘We got him, Sara. Goldberg… we got him. Babe, you should have seen it. We got there in this huuuuge van and the two thugs were carrying guns and when we got there, I dee… dee… I shut off the alarm…’

‘Neal, Neal, honey… please, just the highlights. _Where_ are you?’ she asked suspiciously. 

There was no doubt Neal was under the influence of _something_ and unless he and Peter had decided to go out for a drink and had gotten totally smashed - which she highly doubted - there was no other explanation than Neal was on some very strong pain meds which meant he'd been hurt in the takedown.

Peter watched Neal frown as if he was thinking really hard about what to say next and finally, Neal whispered into the phone.

‘I had a little accident’ he admitted, as if confiding a secret.

‘Neal, let me talk to Peter’ Sara said, her voice urgent.

‘You don’t want to talk to me?’ Neal whined.

‘Of course I want to talk to you, sweetie. I just… I just want to talk to Peter for a minute.’

Neal rolled his eyes and eyed Peter suspiciously. ‘My wife says she wants to talk to _you_ ’ he said with a pout.

Peter took the phone and distanced himself from the bed, cringing as he prepared for the inevitable onslaught of questions.

‘Hey Sara!’ he said, his voice chipper despite knowing she would not be fooled.

‘Peter, what the hell’s going on. Is he all right?’ she asked.

‘He’s… he’s fine’ Peter replied, knowing full well that his brief response just wasn't going to cut it.

‘Details Peter!’ Sara said loudly into the phone.

‘There was a bit of a scuffle during the takedown and…’

‘Oh my God!’ Sara shouted. ‘Was he shot?’

‘No, no’ Peter reassured her. ‘He just… took a tumble and well, he… hurt his wrist —

‘Hurt his wrist?’ Sara repeated.

‘Yeah, his left wrist… it’s broken’ Peter said, his voice quiet. ‘Basically, that’s about it… except for his shoulder’ he mumbled under his breath.

‘His shoulder? What’s wrong with his shoulder?’

‘Just a bruise’ Peter fibbed. ‘And then there’s some bruised ribs’ he muttered quickly before adding more decisively ‘but really, he’s fine.’

‘Peter!’ she shouted into the phone, exasperation obvious in her voice. ‘Are you at the hospital?’

Peter knew all too well what would happen next if he didn't navigate the situation carefully - Sara being Sara, she would want to rush down to the hospital and there would be drama and with Neal the way he was, he had enough drama to deal with.

‘Sara’ he said, his voice as calm as he could manage it. ‘We’re just about done here. They’re releasing him and I’m bringing him straight home —’

‘Peter, I want to come to the hospital’ she said, standing up.

‘Sara, there’s no time. I swear, I’ll have him home within the hour’ Peter said - although he had no idea whether or not that was true.

‘You swear?’ she asked, worried.

‘Scout’s honour’ he answered with a pang of guilt for using the sacred pledge so loosely.

‘And you’re telling me everything?’

‘I swear.’

‘Peter!’ Neal called out from the bed, his body limp. ‘Can I talk to my _own wife_ now?’

‘Apparently, Neal has more he wants to say to you’ Peter said, making his way to the bed and handing the phone back to his best friend.

He sat back to listen to more of Neal’s gibberish, looking on fondly and relieved to have him safe and sound - albeit loopy.

‘Honey, it’s me again… Neal…’ the injured man said, his voice lethargic. ‘…then, we got to these glass doors and I took out my lock pick set, not the new one, you know the old one I keep in the top drawer of my dresser - the one I used to break into the Tate in ’04 and Goldberg said to me….’

Sara settled in to listen, shaking her head in disbelief yet more than willing to put up with another few minutes of play by play from her drugged up husband.

WCWCWC

By the time, Peter got Neal home it was close to 3:30 in the morning and he’d moved on from talkative Neal to sentimental Neal as the excellent drugs coursed through his body. He clung to Peter as the FBI agent lugged him up the driveway only to find both Sara and Scott waiting for them by the front door.

They could hear Neal singing even before they’d opened the door and Sara cringed as he hit a particularly high note in a pale imitation of Frankie Valli. No doubt she’d be answering awkward questions from their nosy neighbour, Myrtle Stevens, in the morning.

‘Finally!’ she said as Peter dragged Neal up the walkway.

‘Hi honey!’ Neal called out, eyes half-lidded as he gave his wife a bright smile. ‘I’m home!’

Scott smirked at the sight of him and gave Sara a look of disbelief. He’d never seen charming, debonair Neal Caffrey in such a state nor could he ever have imagined such a sight.

‘Oh dear’ Sara said, spotting the cast on Neal’s arm.

‘He sang all the way home from Manhattan’ Peter complained as Neal resumed his crooning. ‘Show tunes mostly. He’s been stuck on Jersey Boys for the last half hour.’

‘Come on in’ Sara said as she wrapped her arm around Neal’s back and guided him into the house. He gazed at her goofily and placed a big wet kiss on her cheek as she grimaced.

‘Baby, you shouldn't have waited up. I’m fine’ he attempted to say in all seriousness before breaking out in irrepressible giggles.

Scott sidled over, supporting him on the other side and Peter gladly relinquished his hold on Neal.

‘Get some sleep, buddy’ he said. ‘If you’re up to it, we’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘She-e-ry, Sherry baby, She-e-ry, Sherry baby’ Neal continued, just hitting his stride.

‘Here’ Peter said, handing Sara a bottle of pills. ‘These are some painkillers for when he finally comes down.’

Sara frowned; the last thing Neal needed was more drugs.

‘Nothing as strong as they gave him tonight’ Peter clarified.

‘Come on Frankie. Let’s get you up to bed’ Sara said as she led Neal inside and bid Peter goodnight.

‘Scott!’ Neal exclaimed as if he’d just noticed the young man standing there. ‘Robin Hoodie! We got him, we got the bastard!’

Scott frowned at the nickname and he smiled shyly. ‘I heard’ he said, dragging Neal towards the stairs. ‘You think you can make it up the stairs, Neal?’

Neal let out a puff of air and laughed, throwing his head back. ‘Of course I can make it up the stairs’ he said as he tripped on the first step and almost tumbled to the ground.

‘Oops!’ he said with a giggle turning to grab on to Sara and hitting her in the head with his cast.

‘I got him’ Scott said, guiding Neal upstairs with Sara bringing up the rear, rubbing her head.

Once he got the rhythm down, Neal managed to climb all the way up with a little help from Scott. He hesitated for a minute before stepping into the bedroom, pulling Scott down towards Hope’s room at the end of the hall.

‘Oh no you don’t’ Sara said as she blocked the way. ‘Hope is sound asleep, you’re going to wake her.’

‘I just want to give her a kiss goodnight’ Neal pleaded, his voice still slurred.

‘Come on Neal, you can see her in the morning’ she insisted.

He was pretty well putty in her hands and he allowed them both to herd him into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed.

‘I’ve got it from here’ Sara said. ‘Thanks Scott.’

Neal continued singing, his voice beginning to fade as his body relaxed.

’Goodnight!’ the young man responded as he headed back downstairs.

Neal lay on the bed, as limp as a rag doll and let Sara remove his shoes and socks, his singing reduced to humming. Getting him out of his cat burglar attire took a little doing although the turtleneck he'd worn had been sliced open along the left sleeve to allow them to remove it without causing him too much discomfort.

Once undressed, Sara tucked him in and looked into his unfocussed eyes.

‘Do you need to go pee?’ she asked as if she were addressing a two-year-old.

Neal shook his head and Sara watched as he almost instantly dropped off to sleep. He would be the death of her, of that she had no doubt and yet, she wouldn't want it any other way.

She heard him mumble something that sounded like ‘outlaw’ or maybe ‘quick draw’ and she shook her head in a combination of amusement and exasperation.She leaned in to gently kiss his lips as a drugged out smile appeared on his face and she proceeded to get undressed and to join him, a long slow sigh of relief slipping from her lips.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

‘Neal… Neal!’ the ex-con heard as he blinked against the bright morning sun. After considerable effort, he focussed his bleary eyes on his wife, sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed and holding a glass of water in one hand and clutching something in the other.

He let out a soft groan as he came to, pain throbbing in his shoulder and shooting all the way down his injured arm.

‘Hey’ she said, her voice soft. ‘How are you feeling?’

Neal glanced down at the cast that covered his wrist all the way up to his elbow and he grimaced as the events of the previous night came flooding back.

‘What time is it?’ he moaned, his voice rough.

‘It’s just past ten o’clock’ Sara answered, running her hand through his disheveled hair.

He made a move to sit up, his eyes growing wide. ‘Peter’s doing a de-brief this morning. I’ve got to get going.’

‘That might be…’ Sara said decisively. ‘But _you’re_ not going anywhere, Caffrey.’

Neal pushed off the bed with his good arm in an effort to get up, coming face to face with a very determined red-head, resolutely blocking his way. He gave up without much of a fight, letting himself fall back on his pillow with a grunt.

Sara leaned in to touch his cheek.

‘Relax! Peter called first thing this morning and said he didn't want to see you there. He’s coming over later to check on you and he'll fill you in on everything.’

Neal’s tense features seemed to relax at the news. ‘How come you’re home, anyway?’ he asked his wife.

‘I took a personal day. I figured you might need a little TLC after what happened last night.’

He smiled at her response; he didn't even want to pretend he wasn't pleased.

‘Are those for me?’ he asked, pointing to what he could now see were pills in her hand.

‘Sore, huh?’ she asked, smiling with empathy.

‘Yeah, I guess those excellent drugs they gave me last night have finally worn off’ Neal said, taking the two pills and popping them in his mouth.

He chased them away with a sip of water and let his eyes close momentarily as Sara stood to leave.

‘Don’t go’ he whined, reaching out for her hand and pulling her back. ‘Sit with me for a minute.’

‘Hope is playing in her room alone’ Sara explained. ‘I should go check on her.’

He pouted then smiled.

‘So, how bad was I last night?’ he asked, a faint recollection forming in his muddled mind.

‘The usual…’ Sara answered. ‘Broadway musicals mostly. You serenaded me to sleep with ‘ _Can’t take my eyes off of you_ ’… actually, it was kind of sweet.’

He gave a soft chuckle. ‘Oh no…’ he said, embarrassed.

He studied her face. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, reaching out and gently brushing his thumb over a bump on her forehead.

‘Nothing…’ she lied, pulling away.

‘You got me in the head a couple of times with that thing, that’s all’ she admitted, pointing to his cast.

‘Oh, no. I’m sorry, baby —’ he began.

‘It’s okay, it was just like old times…’ she said with a grin, ‘…but I have to admit that thing’s even more lethal than your anklet was.’

She watched his face crumple.

‘Honey, it’s fine, really. I was so relieved to see you walking through that door… I’m just sorry you had to get hurt.’

‘I’ll be okay—’ Neal said as tiny footsteps were heard in the hallway just outside their bedroom door.

‘Poppa! Poppa!’ Hope called out as she prepared to jump on the bed and into his arms. Sara reacted quickly, intervening just in time to keep her from doing any further damage to her injured dad.

‘Careful, careful!’ she warned. ‘Daddy’s got a big bobo on his arm.’

Neal wagged his eyebrows at his daughter and lifted his arm up with a frown. ‘Do you want to be the first one to draw a picture on Daddy’s cast?’ he asked.

WCWCWC

‘I think the kid shows a lot of talent’ Mozzie commented as he pointed to Neal’s colourful cast.

The two men sat in the family room, the chess board set up between them on the couch as they challenged each other to a very low key match. Neal was fading fast but resisting the urge to lie down. He was anxious for Peter to get there so he could get the lowdown on what had happened to Goldberg and his band of merry men.

‘I agree’ Neal replied as he made his next move, instantly regretting it.

Mozzie gave him a look of total confusion. ‘I feel like I’m playing a six-year-old’ he said.

‘Sorry Moz. I guess I’m still feeling a little fuzzy’ Neal admitted.

‘You guys want more coffee?’ Sara called out from the kitchen. ‘Or should I say wine’ she corrected as Mozzie held up his empty glass.

‘Sure!’ ‘No thanks!’ they said simultaneously and Sara grabbed the open bottle of wine and made her way over, filling Mozzie’s wine glass.

She gave Neal a quick once over and shook her head. ‘I think you should rest for a while, honey. You’re fading fast.’

Neal’s eyes grew small, obviously fighting fatigue, an unfortunate side effect from the pain medication.

‘What time is Peter coming over?’ he asked.

‘I invited him and El over for dinner so you have plenty of time for a nap before they get here. Why don’t you go upstairs and curl up against Hope and I’ll wake you both up in an hour?’

Neal looked up, obviously tempted by Sara’s suggestion. ‘But what about dinner —’ he began.

‘What do you mean ‘ _what about dinner’_? Are you insinuating I can’t manage to get dinner on the table without you?’ she asked, testily.

He held his tongue; whatever he said in response would likely get him into trouble. She would probably overcook some steaks and make a salad - the extent of her culinary skills - and in his present state, that was just fine with him. He hoped she didn't char the hell out of those suckers, though.

Mozzie sat up expectantly, batting his eyelashes as Sara helped Neal off the couch. She pointed Neal in the direction of the stairs and turned to give Mozzie a knowing glance before returning to the kitchen.

‘Yes, Mozzie’ she said in response to his unasked question. ‘You can stay for dinner.’

WCWCWC

Neal gave Sara a look of helplessness as he stared down at his overdone steak. Unless he picked it up with his right hand and chewed on it like a caveman, he was in trouble.

She gave him a knowing smile and proceeded to cut up his meat into bitesize pieces just as she’d done with the meat on Hope’s plate. She picked up a morsel of the incinerated steak and brought it to his lips, a gesture Neal did not find amusing in the least and he playfully smacked her hand away and took the fork from her.

‘So, tell me everything!’ he said as he turned to look at Peter.

‘Well, it looks like the charges against Goldberg are going to stick. There’s nothing like catching someone in the act. Oh, and Jeremy Byers was arrested this morning - Goldberg gave him up without a second thought.’

Neal grinned, pleased to know his latest injury hadn't been in vain.

‘By the way…’ Peter added, glancing at Mozzie, ‘…I hear we have you to thank for Neal’s outstanding performance with the gallery’s alarm system.’

‘I may have… contributed in some circuitous way’ Mozzie said, as always circumspect.

‘And the art is safe?’ Neal asked.

‘Yup. And guess what? We have four tickets for the exhibit on Sunday, compliments of Nicole Stinson herself.’ Peter added, pulling said tickets out of his shirt pocket and setting them down on the table.

‘Nice!’ Mozzie commented, an excited look in his eyes.

‘ _Four_ tickets, Mozzie’ Peter repeated. ‘Sorry!’

The bald man returned to his meal, frowning. Always the bridesmaid…

Neal picked up the tickets to examine them, his eyes brightening. ‘Peter, this is for the VIP wrap-up party. Catherine Everett is going to be there!’

Sara and Elizabeth exchanged puzzled looks. ‘She’s an amazing Canadian artist’ Neal explained with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I _love_ her stuff.’

‘I actually came across one of her pieces last year…’ Mozzie began, his eyes moving guiltily to glance at Peter before quickly changing course. ‘…in a gallery… somewhere…’ he mumbled, letting his voice trail.

‘Well, Ms. Stinson was ecstatic that everything was recovered safely and she wanted to show her gratitude’ Peter said, pleased with himself.

‘What about the Rothko?’ Neal asked. He’d been feeling guilty about his role in desecrating such a beautiful piece of art.

‘They’ve already re-framed it and it’s looking as good as new. See?’ he said, pulling up a picture on his phone and showing it to a relieved looking Neal.

Elizabeth glanced at Neal’s injured arm, noticing how swollen his fingers were. ‘God, that looks painful, Neal’ she commented.

‘The pain killers help’ he replied with a shrug.

‘Hope paint’ the toddler said as she tapped the cast proudly.

‘Yes, you did!’ Neal responded with a smile. ‘Maybe they’ll want to put it up in the Nicole Stinson Gallery - a Hope Ellis-Caffrey original.’

Neal’s mind wandered back to Scott, one of his main motivations for carrying out the undercover operation in the first place.

‘What’s going to happen to Scott?’ he asked Peter between bites of charred meat.

‘You and I are going to meet with his parole officer on Monday and see what we can do about getting the charges dropped’ he replied. ‘By the way, where _is_ Robin Hoodie? I thought he’d be here.’

‘He’s out with Moira again’ Sara said, wagging her eyebrows.

‘Who’s Moira?’ El asked, curious.

‘She’s this girl he met at NYU, a really sweet girl.’

‘… who looks _exactly_ like Sara’ Neal added, animatedly.

‘She does not!’ Sara retorted, shaking her head. ‘Neal’s got it in his head that this girl looks like me.’

‘She does, she looks exactly like you, especially… ten years ago when I first met you.’

Sara gave him a playful shove. ‘Thank you very much!’ she said sarcastically.

Neal realized the error of his ways. ‘I mean she doesn't have the polish and sophistication you have…’ he attempted, making the save.

Hope giggled - only because everyone else around the table was laughing - and she banged her hand energetically against the table, sending a smattering of mashed potato flying in the air, landing on Peter’s shirt.

She giggled louder at her exploit as her parents gave her the evil eye.

‘Funny!’ she shouted, surprised to find that Peter didn't seem amused.

‘No pumpkin, it’s _not_ funny’ Peter said, to Neal and Sara’s relief. ‘Now, Uncle Peter has to wash his shirt. Can you say ‘sorry’?’

Neal and Sara exchanged surprised looks; finally, some cooperation from the enabler in chief.

‘Sorry uccle Peter…’ Hope said, contrite.

‘It’s all right’ Peter answered, wiping away the potato splatter and giving his god-daughter a forgiving hug.

‘So, who’s hungry for dessert?’ Sara asked enthusiastically as she got to her feet. ‘I made a cake.’

Everyone looked over with dread towards the kitchen counter where Sara’s failed attempt at baking a chocolate cake sat, looking lopsided and very unappetizing indeed.

‘I’m full!’ El declared with an embarrassed titter, pushing away from the table.

‘I couldn’t eat another bite’ Peter added, looking away.

Mozzie shook his head. ‘Not for me, thanks.’

Neal just looked at his wife, tapping his belly in a full motion.

‘Cake!’ Hope shouted with glee.

Everybody turned to stare at her; she would figure it out someday.

WCWCWC

‘Need some help with that thing?’ Sara asked as she stepped into the bedroom and found her husband struggling to remove his shirt.

He gave her a look of helplessness. ‘Please…’ he replied with a sad smile.

She stepped closer, gingerly pulling his arms out of his shirtsleeves and sensing his dismay. ‘You know, it could have been a lot worse, Neal’ she reminded him in an attempt to cheer him up. ‘And you’ll only need to wear the cast for six weeks.’

Neal nodded reluctantly and pulled on his sleep pants with one hand, refusing any offer of help. He began poking around the small table by his side of the bed, moving things around, searching for something.

‘What are you looking for?’ Sara asked as she prepared for bed.

‘I thought I left my wedding band here somewhere’ he said, getting on his knees and peering under the bed. ‘Not that I can wear it anytime soon.’

‘Are you sure you put it there? I could have sworn you were wearing it when we had that picnic in the park yesterday’ she commented.

‘Are you sure?’ Neal asked, his head popping up from underneath the bed. ‘Oh, shit!’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Where are those black jeans I was wearing last night?’ he asked, getting to his feet.

‘In the hamper’ she replied, recalling how she’d thrown them in there after prying them off Neal’s overly relaxed body.

He rushed over and poked around the hamper, dumping the dirty clothes on the bedroom floor and retrieving the black denim pants he’d worn the night before.

‘What? What is it?’ Sara asked, watching him make a mess.

He emptied all the pockets and, finding nothing, he threw the jeans on the floor and began to examine the bottom of the hamper and poke around the floor nearby, throwing clothes around haphazardly as he kept searching.

‘Damn it!’ he grumbled, coming up empty. ‘It’s not here.’

Sara brought her hand to his back and knelt, helping him collect the pile of dirty laundry off the floor.

He looked at her, worry lines on his forehead. ’I’d forgotten to take it off and at the last minute, I stuck it in my jeans pocket’ he explained. 

‘Honey, it’s no big deal. Come on, come to bed, it’s late. We’ll figure it out in the morning.’ she said, watching Neal grow more and more flustered.

He shook his head. ‘But, it’s my wedding band…’

Sara chuckled. ‘So? It doesn't make you any less married…’ she said as he frowned at her. ‘… so don’t go getting any ideas, Caffrey.’

Neal shook his head, unamused.

‘Come on, you’re exhausted. I’m sure we’ll find it in the morning’ Sara insisted.

He dragged himself to his feet and looked over at Sara, forlorn. They settled in, Neal much more alert than he'd been the night before.

‘I was thinking we could invite Moira over for dinner tomorrow night… you know, moral support for Scott’ Sara suggested, nestled in his arms. ‘What do you think?’

Neal thought of the near culinary disaster dinner had been. Luckily, Peter and Elizabeth had been around a long time - long enough to know that among Sara Ellis’ many attributes, preparing delicious, tantalizing meals was way at the bottom of the list right alongside astrophysics and performing open heart surgery. She could get away with it with their best friends but Moira… well, that was another story.

‘We’ve got a lasagna in the freezer’ Neal said, trying to make his suggestion sound casual.

She wagged her eyebrows. ‘And we have leftover cake from tonight’ she added as he sighed.

‘Yeah, honey… about that cake…’ he began, treading lightly.

‘I’m kidding’ she said. ‘I threw it out. Even Hope wouldn't eat it.’

Neal chuckled; at least the woman knew where her strengths lay - and it wasn’t in the kitchen.

‘Well, I’m sure if we team up, we can make a strawberry upside down cake’ he offered.

‘Deal’ she said, leaning in and letting her lips graze his bare shoulder. ‘Do you think they’ll dismiss the charges against Scott?’

Neal shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine but we’ll give it our best shot.’

They both grew quiet, Sara’s breathing growing even. ‘Maybe the gallery…’ Neal whispered just as Sara was beginning to nod off.

‘Huh?’ she moaned.

‘The gallery… maybe my wedding band fell out of my pocket when I took that dive at the gallery.’

‘Uh huh’ Sara said, half asleep.

Neal turned things over in his mind, recalling how he’d taken care to stuff it deep into his right jeans pocket while still at the Bureau. Maybe that tumble had dislodged it and sent it flying out of his pocket.

A guy could hope.

WCWCWC

Lucile Harvey finished mopping up the floor in cubicle 13 of the emergency room at Mount Sinai Hospital and patted her pocket, feeling the piece of jewelry against her hip. She’d worked at the institution for the past twenty-eight years as part of their housekeeping department, still making barely enough money to feed and clothe her four kids. Truth was, she enjoyed the job. The doctors and nurses were friendly and she took pride in knowing that she contributed in some small way to making a visit to the ER a little less traumatic for all those families who came through.

The men’s gold band she’d found on the floor in the far corner of the room was good quality; she was sure it was worth a few bucks - it might even pay for that elite soccer camp her older kid had been begging her to attend. She shook her head in order to dismiss the malicious thought. She’d been an honest, God-fearing woman her whole life and a firm believer that the Lord always provided.

She made her way to the security office by the front of the hospital, the arthritis in her knee flaring up as it always did when she was nearing the end of her shift.

‘Hey Gus!’ she called out to the man behind the glass.

The man looked up from his book and smiled. ‘Lucile! How are you doing? How are the kids?’

‘They’re good. Growing like weeds’ she replied. ‘Look, I found this wedding band when I was cleaning cubicle 13 in the ER. I’m sure someone must be missing it.’

The man examined the plain gold ring, noting with interest the faded inscription on the inside. _‘Yours forever, Repo’_ it read.

‘Looks expensive’ he commented. ‘I’ll put it in the lost and found. Let’s hope whoever lost it comes forward to claim it.’

‘Have a good night!’ Lucile called out, returning to the task of cleaning other people’s messes.

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Come morning, Neal woke feeling refreshed, the nagging pain in his shoulder the only remaining vestige of his little misadventure from two nights before. It was Saturday and that meant household chores is suburban White Plains - chores which Neal would need help with for the foreseeable future, at least until his wrist healed completely.

After a hearty breakfast, he enlisted Scott’s help with some of the yard work and the two men headed out, followed by Hope, dragging her pink elephant along to play outside.

‘So is Moira coming over for dinner?’ Neal asked as they stepped into the garage.

‘Yeah, thanks for inviting her’ Scott replied, sounding somewhat apprehensive. ‘It’s nice to know I have people in my corner… especially now.’

Neal gave him a knowing look. ‘I know you’re worried about that meeting with your parole officer but just remember you’re not alone Scott’ he said, bringing his good arm up to pat Scott on the back.

‘Peter and I will be there and with Goldberg’s arrest… well, I’m confident they’ll consider dropping the charges against you.’

Scott nodded and headed for the lawn mower, tucked away in a corner of the Caffrey’s perfectly orderly garage as Neal hovered nearby, shadowing him and giving him lengthy instructions on how to go about cutting his beloved front lawn.

‘Usually I start in this corner over here…’ Neal pointed as Scott gave him a dirty look.

‘I _have_ cut grass before, Neal!’ he said. ‘It’s hardly rocket science.’

Neal frowned. He liked his front yard looking just so - a peculiar notion, considering he’d never even _had_ a lawn up until about a year before.

‘When did _you_ ever cut grass?’ he asked Scott, deflecting.

‘I was raised on an estate in Rhode Island’ the young man explained as he pushed the mower out of the garage and onto the driveway.

Neal looked surprised; they’d never really discussed Scott’s youth. Except for the fact that his mom had passed away, Neal realized he knew very little about Scott’s early life.

‘I used to help the gardener with his chores’ Scott continued.

‘The gardener?’ Neal repeated.

‘Yeah, my mom managed the estate and we lived in a little cottage next to the mansion.’

‘That wouldn't be the Hartford Mansion, by any chance?’ Neal asked, recalling it had been the first place Scott had hit on his little crime spree.

Scott narrowed his eyes. ‘Yeah… it was’ he replied, thinking back to a time in his life he would rather forget. ‘By the way, I meant to ask you - why did you call me ‘Robin Hoodie’ the other night?’

‘I called you ‘Robin Hoodie’?’ Neal asked. Almost everything from that night was a giant blur.

‘Yeah, between bouts of singing - good voice by the way’ Scott added with a wicked grin.

Neal seemed to hesitate. ‘Back when I was at the Bureau working as a CI, I found out Peter’s team gave all the criminals their own nickname and I… well, I kind of joked that you were like a young Robin Hood with a hoodie so…’

‘Oh yeah? I like it’ Scott said, thoroughly amused. ‘And what was your nickname?’

Neal looked up at the sky, noting some clouds off on the horizon. ‘You know you might want to get started just in case it starts to rain…’ he said, in a feeble attempt at changing the subject.

‘Nice try Neal. Those are fluffy, cumulus clouds’ Scott replied with authority. ‘Come on, spill. What was your nickname when _you_ were being chased by the Feds?’

Sara appeared from inside the house carrying the kitchen waste container, preparing to dump it into the recycle bin.

‘His nickname?’ she said as she walked by the two men. ‘James Bonds. But don’t stoke it… _please._ It gives him a swelled head. And the Feds weren’t the only one chasing him’ she added with a fleeting thought for that Raphael she’d pursued for the better part of eight years.

‘Hi, you two!’ came a familiar voice from the other side of the hedge.

‘Hi Myrtle!’ Sara replied, waving to their next door neighbour and waiting for the inevitable questions from the neighbourhood busybody.

‘Did you hear that ruckus at three in the morning two nights ago?’ she asked with a tsk. ‘Someone was defiling that song from the Four Seasons, you know the one about the girl…’

‘Oh yeah?’ Sara asked with a frown. ‘We must have slept through it, huh, Neal?’

He shrugged and shook his head. ‘Some people…’ he commented, playing it up. ‘No respect for the sanctity of our neighbourhood.’

WCWCWC

‘Honey, a cup is a cup, it’s not a _heaping_ cup. If they wanted you to put in a heaping cup, the recipe would say heaping cup’ Neal lectured as he hovered near Sara in the kitchen.

‘What’s the difference?’ she mumbled as she dumped the sugar into the softened butter.

‘Baking is a very precise art, you can’t eyeball it’ Neal reminded her. After all, there was a reason he was head cook and bottle washer in the Caffrey household.

‘Fine’ she said, unwilling to argue any further.

Neal was a micromanager in all things domestic, from the kitchen to the laundry to the outdoor chores - no doubt a throwback to his con-man days when messing up even the slightest detail could derail a well planned con and end up landing him behind bars.

They heard giggling from the back yard where Moira and Scott were keeping an eye on Hope as she played in the sandbox.

‘They’re awfully cute together, aren’t they?’ Sara commented as she started the mixer, splattering the cake mixture all over the counter.

‘Sara! Seriously!’ Neal shouted, losing patience. ‘Would you please concentrate on what you’re doing!’

‘For heaven's sake, Neal! It’s for Scott and Moira - we’re not having the royal family over for dinner’ she replied acerbically.

‘Move!’ he said, finally giving up on getting her to do things his way. Sara glared at him, a look of pure annoyance. ‘Move!’ he repeated, giving her a gentle shove with his hips.

Sara shook her head and gave him a dirty look; he could be such a stickler in the kitchen.

‘Look, why don’t you do this and I’ll see if the kids want anything to drink’ she offered, more than happy to get out of Neal’s space and let him get on with it.

‘Hey!’ she called out, from just inside the patio door, interrupting a sweet kiss between the young lovebirds. ‘You guys want something to drink?’

Scott stared up, smiling patiently. ‘We’re good’ he said.

‘Oh, Sara. I got you a little something’ Moira said, getting to her feet and producing a large gift bag she’d smuggled in without her noticing.

‘For me?’ Sara said, stepping out onto the deck to accept the gift.

‘You and Neal have been so welcoming and… well, I know you’ve been wanting one of these’ she reasoned as she handed over the bag.

Sara’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and she let out a squeal as she removed the tissue paper, revealing a gorgeous peach coloured Louis Vuitton handbag.

‘Do you like it?’ Moira asked. ‘I asked my aunt to be on the lookout for any rejects and she sent it over.’

‘Like it? I _love_ it! But Moira, this is… too much.’

‘It’s really not’ the young woman said quietly. ‘She got it for practically nothing and she wouldn't take a penny from me so…’

Neal stuck his head out the patio door, intent on seeing what all the ruckus was about.

‘Nice’ he called out with a mischievous grin. ‘But you really shouldn’t feed her shoe or purse habit… it just makes it worse’ he said, ducking as Sara prepared to whack him in the chest.

He watched the two redheads hugging and felt a tightness in his chest as he thought of Sara’s sister, Emily, who was out there somewhere and whose sudden disappearance all those years ago had left Sara feeling bereft and abandoned. Perhaps someday, she would agree to let Neal search for her although, for the time being, she steadfastly vetoed the idea every time Neal brought it up.

Hope ran over, joining in the hug and Neal felt reassured; for the time being, they had each other and that, judging by the wide grin on his wife’s face, was enough for now.

WCWCWC

Neal spent a good ten minutes in front of the Rothko, examining it from every possible angle. It looked great and except for a couple of insiders who were in the know, no one would ever have suspected it had been tampered with.

‘Is this the one?’ Sara asked as she appeared by his side, lacing her arm in his.

‘Yup. Looks good though’ he commented.

‘I like this series. I recovered one of his earlier works about five years ago’ she recalled. ‘I’ve always liked his style.’

Not for the first time, Neal Caffrey gazed at the amazing woman by his side, warm, funny, sexy, intelligent and beautiful to boot. He loved their shared passion for art and for beautiful things and yet, not unlike him, she was happiest at the simplest of times: when they were lying in bed, Hope between them, filling their life with laughter and joy. He marvelled at how her eyes shone, her ‘joie de vivre’ seemingly returning as she momentarily left behind her current health woes - or at least pretended to, for his sake.

Neal lifted his good arm, wrapping it around his wife and pulling her close. Walking around an art gallery with Sara was the best - it was like being a five-year-old kid let loose in a candy store. He loved being in the presence of beautiful art and for the most part, he had curbed his earlier impulses to grab stuff off the walls and run out the door, content, for the moment, to admire its beauty in a more natural setting.

Except for his disappointment that the gallery hadn't recovered any lost jewelry, they were having a terrific time. Neal had met Catherine Everett and she’d chatted with him about her latest project and he and Sara had hobnobbed with a few elites from the New York art scene, a milieu Neal seemed very much at home in - contrary to his partner.

‘Hey guys’ Peter said, sidling up to Neal and Sara. ‘Are you ready to blow this pop stand? There’s this new burger joint a few blocks away I want to try.’

‘Seriously?’ Neal said, his tone dry. ‘Peter, the waiters are walking around with trays of Coquilles St-Jacques and goat cheese stuffed mushrooms and you want to hit a burger joint.’

‘Yeah’ Peter said, unapologetic. ‘I’m starved. Come on, El’s waiting by the door.’

Neal and Sara shared a look of commiseration; there really was no accounting for taste.

WCWCWC

‘I feel like this is all too good to be true’ Scott said as he and Neal sat in the car on their way back to White Plains.

Neal grinned from ear to ear. The meeting with Scott’s parole officer had gone better than expected. Not only were the charges against Scott being dropped, the man had a line on a new job for Scott, working as an intern for one of the high tech firms in Manhattan.

‘It was about time you caught a break’ Neal replied, happy for his young charge.

Scott grew quiet and cleared his throat before speaking. ‘None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for you and Sara. I’ll never be able to thank you two enough for everything you’ve done for me.’

‘Oh I don’t know about that’ Neal said. ‘I felt responsible for you losing your job in the first place.’

Scott stared out the window, a silly grin on his face. ‘And Moira… to be honest, I really don’t know what she sees in me but I hope whatever it is, she doesn't stop seeing it.’

‘I hear you’ Neal laughed, relating to the comment. ‘We’ve got a couple of really terrific women.’

He hesitated for a moment, embarrassed to ask yet curious to find out if Scott saw what he saw when he looked at Moira.

‘Just out of curiosity’ he finally ventured. ‘Don’t you think Sara and Moira look a lot alike?’

‘What? Sara and Moira?’ Scott said as if the idea had never crossed his mind.

‘Yeah, they’re both redheads, beautiful, same green eyes, contagious laugh…’

Scott gave him a weirded out look. ‘Uggh, that’s… creepy, man. I would never think of Sara that way.’

‘What? What are you talking about? You’ve been flirting with her since the day you first laid eyes on her at June’s’ Neal reminded him.

‘Have not!’ Scott countered.

‘Have so’ Neal argued, like a nine-year-old.

Scott grew quiet. ‘I’ll admit there might be… some slight resemblance between the two of them’ he finally admitted sheepishly.

‘I knew it!’ Neal shouted as if he’d been proven right.

‘You’re crazy!’ Scott shouted back, playfully.

‘Well, if Moira is anything like Sara, you’ve really hit pay dirt, buddy’ Neal said, returning to his self-possessed self.

Scott sighed; he knew that to be a fact and come to think of it, maybe Neal was right, maybe there _was_ something to living life on the right side of the law.

WCWCWC

‘That’s the dishes done for another night’ Sara announced as she stepped outside the house, onto their backyard deck.

She found Neal lying in the hammock, reading a book to Hope, the two of them curled up in a little ball and looking so comfy.

‘We saved you a spot’ Neal said, pulling Hope in a little closer to his chest.

‘Momma sit!’ she ordered with a loud giggle.

Sara slipped in next to her daughter, the three of them cocooning in the confined space.

‘Ahhh, this is nice, isn't it?’ she declared with a satisfied sigh.

Hope nodded gleefully and Neal gave his wife a knowing smile. There were no better moments than when they were all together, huddled in their own little bubble, away from the craziness of everyday life.

Before long, Hope climbed onto Neal’s chest and began to fade, Sara’s hand rubbing her back as she yawned. The toddler’s thumb moved to her mouth and within minutes, she was sound asleep and Neal lifted his arm to pull Sara in against his body.

‘I think she’s finally coming out of that terrible phase’ Sara whispered.

‘She hasn't had a tantrum in four days’ Neal agreed. ‘Fingers crossed.’

‘Tomorrow’s Tuesday. I guess dance class is out of the question’ Sara said wistfully. She’d been surprised at how much she’d enjoyed their night out and meeting Jim and Jenny had only added to the experience.

‘What are you talking about?’ Neal replied. ‘It’s Viennese Waltz night. I’m not missing that! Besides, it’ll be nice to see Jim and Jenny again.’

‘Seriously? You want to dance? With that cast on your arm?’

‘My feet work fine… unless you start stomping all over them like you did last week’ he teased, jostling his wife and dance partner.

‘O-kay. If you think you’re up to it’ she said softly, surprised at just how much Neal was enjoying their newfound, shared hobby. ‘Do you think Scott’s free to babysit?’

‘Already asked him’ Neal replied, his micromanagement skills once again on display.

‘Scott and Moira looked really happy, huh?’ Sara commented, running her bare feet up against Neal’s warm toes.

‘It’s a new beginning for them’ he replied. ‘Now, Scott can look ahead to the future without worrying about being dragged off to jail. He can concentrate on school and work… and getting to know Moira.’

‘I guess that means he’ll be moving out’ Sara commented sadly. ‘You know I kinda liked having him around. And Hope just adores him.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be hanging around for a little while yet’ Neal said, realizing he was in no hurry to see the young man leave their home.

‘You know Caffrey, I think you underestimate the influence you have on him. He really looks up to you, you know.’

‘You think so?’ Neal asked, not so secretly pleased with himself.

‘Of course!’ Sara replied. ‘Next thing you know, he’ll be asking to borrow one of your hats.’

‘Now _that_ I’d like to see’ came Peter’s disembodied voice, followed by the sound of the backyard gate opening.

‘I rang the doorbell but I guess you guys didn't hear’ he said, coming into view.

Neal brought his finger to his mouth, urging him to be quiet just as Peter noticed his goddaughter sound asleep on her daddy’s chest.

‘Sorry’ Peter said, his voice quiet. His face lit up at the sight of the little family curled up together and he pulled out his phone and held it to his face, snapping a picture of the three of them.

Neal shook his head in disbelief. ‘Seriously, Peter?’

‘What? It’s cute’ Peter said - a word Neal hadn't heard the older man use much since he’d known him. ‘I want to show El.’

The sun was going down, a beautiful orange glow against the backdrop of the Caffrey backyard as a perfect summer day came to an end.

‘What are you doing out here in the burbs so late?’ Neal murmured.

‘I’m here on a mission’ Peter responded, digging into his pant pocket and coming up with a very familiar object.

‘Where did you find it?’ Neal said a little too loudly.

Hope’s thumb popped out of her mouth and she let out a loud sigh before settling in once more against her dad and returning to a deep slumber.

‘I heard you talking to Nicole Stinson yesterday about how you’d lost your wedding band and I remembered that the other night, when I was getting your phone out of your jeans pocket, I heard a pinging sound. So, I called the hospital on a hunch and… voilà!’

Neal gave his partner a brilliant smile and took the ring from his hand, examining it carefully.

‘I was afraid I was never going to see this thing again’ Neal said, bringing it to his lips and giving it a quick kiss.

Sara watched and smiled - Neal was such a romantic.

‘I think I better hold on to that for you’ she said, taking it from her husband’s hand. ‘As least until the swelling in your fingers goes down and you can wear it again.’

‘That’s probably a good idea’ Neal agreed, willingly handing it over.

‘You sure look awfully cozy’ Peter commented, suddenly envious. ‘Is there room for one more on there?’

Neal and Sara laughed. ‘How about this? I’ll buy you one of your very own for your next birthday’ Neal suggested.

‘Deal’ Peter said with a wistful smile. ‘Well, I better get back. El is holding dinner for me.’

‘Goodnight Peter’ Sara said.

‘And thanks… for everything’ Neal added.

Silence resumed, the gentle breeze swaying the hammock back and forth. Neal brought his lips to Sara’s forehead, depositing a soft kiss and Sara’s hand moved to gently caress Hope’s hair.

At least for now, all was right with the world.

**La fin**


End file.
